Mystery Muse
by Gratiae
Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid meets a mysterious woman who captures both his curiosity and his heart, consequently making his life take flight in ways he had never dreamed to hope for. Reviewed as "Phenomenal!," "Brilliant!," "Exquisite!" and "Absolutely Delightful!" COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds**

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_When deep down in the core of your being you believe that your soul mate exists, there is no limit to the ways he or she can enter your life. - Arielle Ford_

o o o o

31 July, 2008

The musky scent of the old books filled the building and very few sounds permeated the room beyond scattered, muted chatter and the constant turning of pages. Beneath him, the over-stuffed, plush wing chair was comfortably squished in all the right places and the book in his hand was so creased in the spine that it was quite obviously well read and much loved.

"And now you are angry with me too because I have a man here," the soft, warm breath on his ear made him jump slightly, but years of training kept him in his seat as the soft voice continued.

"I found the poor creature sitting all alone astride of a keel, for Jove had struck his ship with lightning and sunk it in mid ocean, so that all his crew were drowned, while he himself was driven by wind and waves on to my island." Soft and breathy, the voice poured new life into the words and the scene came alive for him as it had never before.

"I got fond of him and cherished him, and had set my heart on making him immortal, so that he should never grow old all his days." The hair on the back of his neck was standing up and shivers ran down his spine.

Spencer Reid looked up when the voice stopped too see a brightly coloured young woman settling into the wing chair across from him.

"You – you know _The Odyssey_?"

"Only by heart," the young woman laughed, pulling up her pink stocking-ed legs to sit cross legged. Her laugh was like a tinkling bell – high, clear, resonant and it rang through him in a way he'd never felt before.

"Very impressive. Not many people can memorize a book, let along one that's 528 pages, if your reading the Fitzgerald translation, 560 if it's the Fagles translation and, strangely, 256 if your reading the Palmer translation. This ones the Fagles."

"You know the exact pages numbers?" The girls' thin eyebrows raised and the mouth turned up in a smirk.

"Uh, yeah – I know a lot of seemingly useless information." Gently closing the book, he placed it on the end table next to him.

"You should put in a bookmark – you're going to loose your spot."

"Page 324, line 12. I'll be fine."

"Heh, I 'spose you will."

Spencer couldn't look away from her – something about her glued his eyes to her, taking in everything about her and committing it to memory. She was almost odd looking, very unique: she had pulled up her red, blue and purple hair into two curly, messy buns on the side of her head, making her look like an updated Princess Leia.

"Why do you have _The Odyssey_ memorized?" Spencer asked, brushing his bangs out of his eyes and pushing his glasses up in one fluid, practiced motion.

"My grandpa read it to me constantly when I was growing up. It's my favorite story. Well, technically epic poem. Grandpa used to sing it to me the way Homer intended. Though, I'm pretty sure he sang it a little differently then they did in the eighth century in –"

"Ionia."

Startled at his interruption, she stopped and looked at him pointedly. "Pardon?"

"That's what you were going to say, right? _The Odyssey_, and _The Iliad_ as well, are attributed to Homer near the end of the eighth century before common era. Aoidis, meaning singers in classical Greek, would sing these epic poems and it continued in an oral tradition until Peisistratos established the, eh, the Commission of Editors of Homer to edit the poems and ended up canonizing them.

"The earliest pieces of the work that survived are only fragments on papyrus, dated roughly to the third century B.C.E. and the oldest complete manuscript is from the late 10 century C.E. And, um, the _editio princeps_ –the first printed manuscript – is attributed to Demetrius Chalcondyles in 1488 in Florence, Italy. But Homer originally wrote them in Ionia. Isn't that what you were going to say?" Reid took a deep breath and waited, realizing that his words were coming out in a rush.

"Yes. Yes, that's what I was going to say. You know a lot about this poem," the girl paused and pulled at the fraying aglet on her shoelace before looking up with a determined gaze, "but do you know that on a six-sided dice, the opposing numbers will always add up to –"

"Seven. Yes, I did."

"Technically a zebra is black with white strips."

"You're right. If you shaved a zebra, its' skin is completely black."

The pink-legged girl placed her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hands. "The statue of liberty was originally –"

"Supposed to go to Egypt in honor of the Suez Canal."

"Terrorism, as defined by the Oxford English Dictionary, is –"

"Defined as 'government by intimidation'."

"The medical term for cold sores –"

"Is herpes simplex."

"Issac Asimov is the only author ever to –"

"Author a book in every category of the Dewey-decimal system."

The young woman pursed her glossy lips and stared at him with piercing hazel eyes. "Every year the human body replaces ninet–"

"98% of all its atoms."

"According to Canadian researchers, Einstein's brain –"

"Was 15% wider than usual."

"The largest number of children born by one woman is 69."

"Correct – from 1725 to 1765 a Russian serf gave birth to 16 sets of twins, 7 sets of triplets and 4 sets of quadruplets."

The girl practically snarled. "I thought I had you with that one. The word 'nerd' was created by Dr. Seuss in –"

"_If I Ran the Zoo_. And I take that personally offensive."

"None meant," she smiled brightly. "The 'You've got mail!' voice is Elwood Edwards."

"That I did not know." He smiled and replied, "A typical ear of corn has –"

"Roughly 800 kernels in sixteen rows."

The girl stood up and her bright blue ballerina skirt flounced out to her knees. She took a step towards him and pressed a kiss against his unshaven cheek. After winking at him, she skipped out of the room, her black, high top converse scuffing on the floor, without another word.

Spencer sat in a stunned stupor for a few seconds before bolting out of his chair and following after her, forgetting the book on the end table, but she was gone. He lifted his hand to his cheek and a small bit of tacky residue from her lip gloss stuck to his fingertips.

He had just opened his mouth to ask the woman reading in the room he'd just entered if she had seen his mystery girl when his pocket started buzzing.

"Reid." He answered, lifting the phone to his ear and ignoring the annoyed glares he got from the other patrons.

"Hey, Boy Genius, I got some info for you that's gonna make you so hot you'll wanna jump my bones."

"Huh? Oh, good, good…" Spencer rubbed his eyes under his glasses, trying to focus his racing thoughts.

"What? No rise? No jumping to the bait? You've crushed my spirit, Point Dexter, I'll have to call Chocolate Thunder to recover. What has you not paying attention to the all knowing García?"

"I'm sorry, García. I'm a bit distracted. I, uh… I think I may have just met my soul mate and I, uh, I… I don't even know her name."

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**A/N:**

**Hey! Thank's for reading and welcome to the beginning of the rest of our favorite Dr. Spencer Reid's life.**

**Also, this fic starts in Season Four. Specifically between 4x09 "52 Pickup" and 4x10 "Brothers in Arms." It'll be obvious if you watch Criminal Minds regularly when my fic ties in with the shows and to which episodes. :)**

**Please, tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Again, thanks for reading. :)**

**Love, Thalia**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

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"_The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the hunger for bread." – Mother Theresa_

o o o o

28 August, 2008

The file lying in front of him filled with paperwork never seemed to get any smaller, no matter how many sheets he filled out and put in the 'complete' stack. After doing stacked up paperwork for four straight hours, Derek Morgan was almost ready to find someone who smoked, borrow (or steal, it didn't matter to him at this point) their lighter, shove the entire file into the trashcan and torch it.

"Ok," he mumbled to no one in particular, "I need a break or I'm going to loose it." He stuck a post-it to the page he was working on and put the completed pages on top of it, slipped it in the drawer of his desk and left without looking back.

He meandered over to Penelope García's office and stepped inside, "Hey there, Baby Girl. How's the love of my life today?"

"Hey, Dutch Chocolate Sundae. C'mere. I've got something to show you." The platinum tech-goddess patted the chair next to her, but didn't look away from the screen as she typed away. "So, you know that girl Wonder Boy keeps obsessing about, the one that he keeps staring off to space thinking about?"

"Yeah, of course. Everyone does. He's been distracted for, what? Three weeks now?"

"Four. I called him four weeks ago tomorrow when I found the info on that case… the, ummm… the driving case… the one where the guy was knocking women off the road and then abducting them."

"Yeah, I know the one you're talking about. So what about the Homer girl?"

"Well, Reid was at The Hobbit Hole in Fredericksburg when he met her. That's a sort of reading room slash bookstore with this adorable little café attached. Trés cute. Anywho, did you know that our own little Boy Wonder has been going back to said Hobbit Hole every single day that we aren't on a case?"

"He keeps going back over and over trying to see her again, because that's the only thing he knows about her," Morgan supplied when García paused. "So what have you been up to?"

"Well… Ok, so don't get mad, but I'm tired of watching him walk around like the sun's gone and having to throw my erasers at him to get his attention. My collection is dwindling – I lost my favourite purple dinosaur when it bounced of his head. Soooo… I kind of hacked into the surveillance system of the gas station across the street."

"Angel Lips, you know your not supposed to do that," Morgan chuckled. "So what'd you find? Tell me you got something good. I'm getting tired of bummed-out Reid as well."

"Get this – poor Reid left not fifteen minutes before she flounced in. Poor kid has no luck, huh?"

"Flounced?" Morgan chuckled.

"Oh yeah, _flounced_. Watch." García hit a button and a window popped up showing a two story brick building. "See, that girl right there?" She pointed to a woman in a bright orange Mexican peasant skirt and light blue tank top. "Watch." She punched another key and the scene sprang to life.

The young woman bounded up the steps, her skirt flared out as she took the steps two at a time and her hair was floating and falling with each bounce. Something caused her to turn around and wave at somebody, but the person couldn't be seen on screen. She laughed at something before waving again and entered the building.

"That is definitely flouncing," Morgan laughed. "How many different colours are in her hair?"

"Three, not including the natural," García answered. "Her natural is the Weasley red, obviously, and she put in some electric blue highlights, some violet and then some lime green."

"How do you know the red's natural?"

"Oh, Baby Boy, it's impossible to get colour like that out of a bottle. Trust me, I've tried. I looked like a cartoon character each time."

"Well, she certainly is pretty," he sighed. "A little eccentric, but very pretty."

"What? Is it just so hard to believe that a pretty woman might possibly be interested in me? Oh yes, there is just no way anybody would ever be remotely attracted to nerdy, socially stunted Dr. Reid."

They jerked around and saw Reid standing there, his ever-present messenger bag hanging on his shoulder, looking angry and hurt.

"You know, just because I've never had a girlfriend doesn't mean it won't ever happen, doesn't mean that it's impossible she'd ever like me. This isn't any of your business. _She _isn't any of your business. Just leave it alone."

"Reid!" Morgan got up and walked towards him, but Reid was already storming away towards the exit. "Reid, wait up! Reid!"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid was sitting outside the office building on the steps, trying to reclaim his calm, when Prentiss walked out and sat next to him. Neither one said anything for a long time; instead the pair simply sat and watched their colleagues walk up and down the stairs.

"You know, Reid, they didn't mean it like that," Prentiss said at last.

"I know," Reid admitted. "I just – they should have just left it alone."

"They're just worried about you. Morgan and García were just trying to help. I'm worried about you, too, Reid. We all are."

"I'm fine." Reid started to say, but Prentiss cut him off.

"You're not," she turned to look at him. "You're moping around, you stare off into space – Reid, you're acting the same way you were acting when you were, ya know, _using_."

"I just want to know her, Emily." Reid told her. "I keep going back to the place I met her, but I never see her. Just, there's something about her. Sometimes I can still feel her lips on my cheek."

Prentiss wrapped her arm around her friend's shoulder and squeezed. "Why don't you let García find out who she is? Then you can –"

"No! I don't want to do this through sneaking around and combing through her past. I don't want involve work in this. This is… she is… I don't know, Emily, I don't know."

"She's special."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer walked into The Hobbit Hole later that night, following his usual path through each of the rooms and ending in the one he had met her in. Disappointed, he sat in the wing chair and leaned his head back. Within moments, small hands covered his eyes and a wonderfully familiar voice whispered in his ear.

"Guess who?"

"How can I guess? You never told me your name."

"Calliope."

"The muse of epic poetry? The eldest of the Mousai? The mother of Orpheus? What about her?" The laughed he wanted to hear so badly tinkled again and she removed her hands and sat down on the floor in front of him.

"No, silly. My name is Calliope."

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**A/N:**

**Thanks for reading! I really hope you like it.**

**Just so everyone knows, Calliope's name is pronounced [ Kuh-lie-o-pee ]. An audio pronunciation can be found at dictionary .com/browse/calliope if you so desire. Just omit the spaces. :)**

**Again, thanks for reading and please tell me what you think, good or bad. :)**

**Love, Thalia**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

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_If I had a single flower for every time I think about you, I could walk forever in my garden. – Claudia Ghandi_

o o o o

18 January, 2009

The hotel room was stuffier then they usually were. No matter how many times he stood up and readjusted the air conditioner or open and shut the window he couldn't get comfortable. He had spent hours tossing and turning before getting up and turning the TV on.

After spending a few minutes channel surfing, he accepted that nothing halfway decent was going to be on at two in the morning. He tried to look at the case, but his mind was too muddled to be any sort of productive. Finally he laid back down in bed and flipped his phone open.

_"Please enter your password, then press pound… You have seven saved messages. To listen to your messages press one, to send a me –"_

Spencer hit the button and relaxed as her voice filtered through the speaker.

_"First saved voice message. 12-2-2008. Hey, Spencer, guess who? That's right! It's me, your favorite muse. Anyways, I'm not feeling Indian anymore. Switch to Mexican? I'll see you at seven. End of Message. To erase this message press seven, to save it press nine. For more options –"_

Spencer hit 9 and held the phone back to his ear.

_"Second saved voice message. 12-2-2008 Scratch Mexican. How about Italian? Something's screaming 'Get baked ziti!' in my head. Anywho, I have a room full of soon-to-be painters waiting for me. TTFN. End of Message. To era –_

"_Third saved voice message. 12-2-2008 Class is over and I changed my mind again. How about Thai? We can go to that little place right outside of Quantico you were telling me about. End of message. To erase this mess –_

"_Fourth saved voice message. 12-2-2008 Thai sounds good, but Greek sounds better. I love the Moussaka from that little place in… crap where is it? It's that little… I dunno. I'm sure I'll figure it out. End of messa –_

"_Fifth saved voice message. 12-2-2008 How about burgers? We could go to Capital Ale House. It's close to The Hobbit Hole, so we could probably walk. Even though it's 23 degrees. Ok, scratch walking. End of message. To erase –_

"_Sixth saved voice message. 12-2-2008 Forget burgers. Seafood. I want calamari. I finally decided. That's it. I won't change my mind anymore, I promise. See you soon. End of message. To erase this message press seven. To save –_

"_Seventh save voice message. 12-3-2008 I had the best time last night, Magic Man. I still can't believe you showed up with all those different foods. It was wonderful. You're wonderful. Though, I'm probably going to be eating that food for a good few weeks. And I refuse to believe you beat me at Scrabble. You must have cheated somehow. I demand a rematch when you get home. Please be safe. I'll see you soon. End of final message. To erase –"_

Spencer closed his phone and smiled, reliving the night. As soon as she'd seen him at the door laden with seven different takeout bags she'd started laughing and she hadn't stopped all night. The ziti had been her favorite and wound up being the only this that didn't get repacked and creatively stored in the overflowing fridge.

Halfway through the night her grandfather had stopped by under the rouse that he had forgotten one of his prescriptions there the previous night, but Spencer could tell that the man had left in on purpose to see who his granddaughter had been spending so much time with the past three months. Dr. Benjamin Sellers was a kind man, very protective, but definitely kind. He stayed for an hour or so and the three of them had played a game of Scrabble that turned into a stale mate when the last five tiles were unusable.

"_Ok, this old man's out of here. I can't keep up with you two. Thank you for indulging me, Callie, Dr. Reid."_

"_Please, it's Spencer." Spencer stood up and shook the older man's outstretched hand._

"_Spencer." Dr. Sellers smiled and then turned and hugged his granddaughter._

"_I'll walk to you to car, Grandpa."_

_The pair disappeared into the kitchen, to the back door, but Spencer could still hear their voices as he picked up the tiles and put them back in the bag._

"_You picked a good man, Callie. Your parents would have liked him."_

"_I think you're right. He's wonderful. He showed up food from seven different restaurants just because I couldn't make up my mind."_

_The voices became muffled as they walked out of the house onto the driveway. Spencer picked up the framed photo on the end table. The frame was obviously handmade, a black background coated in glitter with neon coat buttons glued in random spots. There were six people in the frame. Spencer recognized Dr. Sellers, though he was much younger. A younger man, about mid-thirties, was holding the hand on a pregnant woman his age, probably his spouse. Two younger boys and the younger girl were pointing at something off camera and the adults were laughing, the woman's hand curled protectively over her stomach._

"_Whatchya looking at, Mr. Magician?" Calliope sat down next to him and threaded her small fingers through his larger ones._

"_This is your family?" He handed her the picture frame._

"_Yeah. That's my grandpa, obviously." Calliope smiled as the pointed out the people in the picture. "That's my dad. His name's Henry. My mom – Hannah. The boy with the red hair is my brother Orlando, 11. The blonde boy is Demetrius, 9. The girl is my sister, Rosalind, 5. As you can see, I have not been born yet."_

"_You never told me what happened to them." Spencer said gently._

_Calliope's smile faded and her face fell visibly. She leaned against his side and rested her head on his shoulder._

"_I was only a few weeks old. Rosalind had a ballet recital and my parents and brothers went to watch. Grandpa was babysitting me. On their way home, a tourist hit a patch of black ice and lost control of his car. He started spinning and hit my family. They flipped five times. By the time the ambulance got there my dad was the only one alive, but he died on the way to the hospital._

"_The state wanted Grandpa to press charges against him, Christopher Howard, but Grandpa decided that he didn't want to ruin the man's life because on an accident. He said that it could have easily been Dad who hit the black ice. He said he and I had nothing to gain by pressing charges – we have more than enough money. So the state put Chris away for four years under the charge of involuntary manslaughter."_

"_You called him Chris." Spencer said, running his thumb over her knuckle._

"_Hmm? Oh, yeah. Grandpa went to go see him in jail once a week and, when I was two he started taking me with him. I know it sound odd, but we became friends. His wife left him while he was in jail and he just got remarried two years ago. Grandpa and I went to his wedding. They're expecting a baby now._

"_He's a really good man. Every year on the anniversary of the accident, Chris sends an apology card and donates money to different charities. A few times he's tried to give us money, but Grandpa always laughs and sends it back."_

_Spencer smiled and hugged her. "You are very remarkable, Calliope."_

"_Not so remarkable," Calliope said, setting the picture frame down on the table. "C'mon. Get your coat, I have an idea."_

He was half asleep as he remembered the semi-frantic dash through Walmart, helping Calliope turn four Scrabble boards into one big board, her laughter as they challenged each other's words and played until midnight. They put away the boards and Calliope walked him out to his car. She looked disappointed when he got into his car after hugging her goodbye.

"_Calliope, wait." Spencer gathered his courage and got out of his car, jogging the few feet back to the house that she'd walked. Wrapping his arms tightly around her, he kissed her, gaining confidence as she snaked her arms around his neck and kissed him back._

"_Finally," Calliope teased, breathless, before standing on her toes and kissing him again._

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid woke with a start as the pounding on his hotel door was joined by Morgan's voice.

"Reid, wake up! You were supposed to be at the station twenty minutes ago."

"I'm up, I'm up." Reid rolled out of bed and stumbled over to the door, letting Morgan in. "I'm sorry, I must have over slept. I couldn't get to sleep last night."

"You've got a text." Morgan tossed Reid his cell phone. Catching it awkwardly, Reid flipped it open and read the text.

'Good morning, Mr. Magician. I miss you. Be safe."

Smiling, Reid quickly typed out his message, 'I miss you too. I'll be safe. I'll call you when I have a minute.'

"The Homer girl?" Morgan asked, grabbing some cloths from Reid's suitcase and put them on the chair.

"Her name's Calliope," Reid reminded him around his toothbrush.

"No offense meant," Morgan said, "You know how I like my nicknames. You miss her."

"Of course I miss her," Reid wiped his mouth and took the cloths Morgan grabbed into the bathroom to change.

"That's why you're having trouble sleeping."

"Stop profiling me, Morgan."

"I'm not profiling you, I'm profiling me. I've had one real girlfriend since I started at the BAU, not just a one-night stand or a casual fling, but the real deal. I had trouble sleeping when we were on a case without her next to me, same as you."

"I haven't slept with Calliope." Reid called from the bathroom. "I've only been seeing her for four and a half months."

"Advice from someone who knows?" Morgan offered and continued without waiting for an answer. "Make sure she knows she's important to you, make sure she knows you miss her when your not there."

"I do," Reid said, buttoning his sweater as he came back into the room.

"You sure? I thought I had too, but I got home from a case and there was a letter on the kitchen table and all of her stuff was gone. Make sure she knows. I'll meet you downstairs."

As soon as Morgan left, Reid opened up his computer and searched until he found what he was looking for.

"Hi, I'd like, uh, I'd like to order a bouquet flowers, please. Yes. Delivered to Fredericksburg, Virginia."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Thanks for reading! I really hope you like it.**

**Ok, so this is totally my favorite chapter so far.**

**I hope I did the whole flashback bits well enough that it makes sense the way I meant it too.**

**Again, thanks for reading and please tell me what you think, good or bad. :)**

**Love, Thalia**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_Panic is a sudden desertion of us, and a going over to the enemy of our imagination. – Christian Nevell Bovee_

o o o o

29 March, 2009

"Ok. Yeah, they're hosing him down now. Alright." Morgan closed his phone and tucked it back into its holder on his belt. "They're checking out Brown's house."

"Go help Hotch."

"Hotch has plenty of people helping him."

"They need you more than I do."

"Reid, I'm going to see you off to the hospital."

"I'm about to get naked so they can scrub me down. Is that something you really want to see?"

Morgan paused before answering, "I'll check on you later. Take good care of him, please."

"Wait – Morgan?"

"Yeah, Reid?"

"Please, don't tell Calliope."

Morgan looked through the plastic tent, studying Reid, as the Dr. Kimura and the HAZMAT worker stopped hosing Reid with water. He nodded before walking away.

"Get this to the lab." Dr. Kimura instructed, handing Dr. Nichol's bagged inhaler to her assistant before turning to Reid, "I hope your right about this."

"So do I."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

31 March, 2009

"His strain, and it's cure, are getting locked up in containment at Fort Detrick with all the other bio-agents people don't know about."

"Heh. Really? What else do they have locked up in there?" Morgan asked, not really wanting an answer.

"Where is he? Stop telling me I can't see him! I know he's here, so help me, I will search every single room until I find him."

"Morgan…" Reid turned to glare at his partner, who back away towards the wall with his hands raised in surrender.

"It wasn't me. You forgot to tell Baby Doll not to say anything."

"Dr. Spencer Reid. I told you that already. Where is he!?"

Dr. Kimura snorted, stepped out of the room and, unsure of exactly whom she was talking to, said, "Dr. Reid is in here."

A hurricane of colour flurried into the room and Morgan sat back down in surprise. Calliope was much more visually loud in person than she was on the Garcías' computer screen. Even in what he could tell was a haphazard outfit, she topped eight different colours easy. She only had one earring in and her hair looked as if she'd just fallen out of a tree.

"Three days! Three days I'm worrying about you. No call, no text, no information at all. Then, eighteen hours ago I hear on the news that an FBI agent had been rushed to the hospital twenty-seven hours prior to this announcement but no mention of who it is or where they were taken. I've called every hospital in a one hundred mile radius of Annapolis and no one would tell me anything or if you were even there."

She stopped to catch her breath for a split second before stampeding onwards. "And then some woman I don't know, um… Petunia, Peony…"

"Penelope García," Morgan supplied.

"Thank you," Calliope nodded at him before turning her rage back on Spencer. "Penelope García calls me and says that she can't tell me what happened or give me any details other than you were indeed the agent hurt and you were here. Fast forward an hour and they won't let me see you."

"An hour? Statistically, it takes an hour and a half to get here from Fredericksburg. Two if there's traffic. How'd you get here so fast?"

"If I told you, Agent Morgan would have to arrest me."

Spencer started laughing until he coughed and Calliope handed him the glass of water next to his bed. He waved it away and reached for her hand; holding it gently, he brought her small hand to his lips and kissed it before resting his head against it.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't tell you," Spencer said, looking up at her, pleading with her to understand. "You know I can't tell you everything about my job, Sweetheart, I told you that. I'm sorry, I really am."

Calliope squatted next to his bed and wiped her eyes dry. "Don't make me worry like that. I know I can't know everything, but please, Magic Man, don't leave me in the dark like that again. I can handle knowing things aren't good, that something's wrong – what I can't handle is not knowing anything at all."

Letting go of her hand, Spencer dried the tears falling down her cheeks. "All right. I'm sorry, Sweetheart, I was just trying to protect you."

"Well, don't, you goof."

Morgan eased himself out of the room, feeling like he was spying on an intensely personal moment. Meeting Hotch, who was standing outside the door, he walked a few feet away, giving the couple privacy.

"How is it that he's only known her name for seven months –"

"Eight," Hotch corrected.

"Eight months and they already look like_ that_?" Morgan nodded his head in Reid's direction. "I don't think any girl's _ever_ looked at me like that or been that worried about me. Except maybe my mom."

"I'm just hoping this job doesn't ruin it." Hotch said, his usual solemn self. "Haley and I looked like that once. Now she can't stand the sight of me. This job doesn't lend itself well to our relationships, whatever their form, whether we want them to or not."

"I guess we all have to have faith that we can find, and keep, _that_. Without that hope, this job's just too much."

"No, you cannot have jello yet. It specifically says right here 'patient cannot have solid foods yet.' So that means no Jell-O."

"Gelatin isn't technically a solid, it's partially hydrolyzed collagen. They break down the molecular bonds that are naturally found in-between individual collagen threads into a structure that they can rearrange more easily. The brand they use here is the name brand Jell-O and Jell-O mixes it with water before they let it cool. The water causes it to form a mixture of high viscosity, gumminess if you will, which makes it become a gel when it cool, thus it's really a _semi_-solid colloid gel. So technically I can have Jell-O."

Calliope's laughter filled the room and Spencer smiled at her lit up face. "Ok, genius, what brand are my shoes?"

"I don't know. You're wearing two different shoes."

Looking down, she stared in wonder. "Look what you did to me! I look like a Barbie dressed by a three year old. This is your fault, mister. You did this to me."

Spencer put on an innocent smile and shrugged sheepishly, "You look beautiful."

"Ha! I look like a three year olds Barbie who accidently got run through the washing machine and then thrown around by a twister."

"And only you can make that look beautiful."

"You're lucky you're cute, Brownnose. Tell you what, if the doctor says you can have jello, you can have jello. But you have to have the doctor's ok. Deal?"

"Deal. Can I have green if they have it?"

She leaned and kissed him gently, "Yes, Baby, you can have green."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Thanks for reading! I hope you like it.**

**So I must give credit where it's due: lines "Ok, yeah they're hosing... Take good care of him please", "Get this to the lab... So do I.", and "His strain, and its...do they have locked up in there?" Those lines were not written by me. They are from the brilliant Season Four episode Amplification, written by Oahn Ly and directed by John E. Gallagher.**

**My favorite bit is the Spencer/Calliope fight over Jell-O. tee hee**

**Again, thanks for reading and please tell me what yo****u think, good or bad. :)**

**Love, Thalia**

**EDIT: Someone sent me a question about why Calliope called Spencer 'Brownnose' so I'm gonna answer it. :P Being called a Brownnose is basically being called a suck-up, but it's more towards kissing their butt. Spencer was telling her she was beautiful even though she looked a fright so she called him Brownnose (suck up). If you want to read the more, eh... explicit explanation, you can do that one your own terms. Kthxbai. :o)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds**

* * *

_Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending. - Maria Robinson_

o o o o

3 April, 2009

"Good morning, Dr. Reid. How are you feeling today?" The nurse put down his breakfast tray on the table and walked over to the machines hooked up to him so she could read the printouts.

"Better than yesterday," he joked. "So do you have any idea about when they're going to let me out of this place? I'm starting to miss real food."

The nurse laughed, "How can you miss 'real' food with the four years supply of green Jell-O your wife's assembled? You've barely had to eat any of our delicious cafeteria food."

Spencer smiled and glanced over at Calliope asleep in an awkward position in the chair by the door. "You're right. I'm lucky."

"So how long have you two been married?" She asked, replacing the drip bag for his IV.

"We're not, actually. She's my girlfriend. We've been together since last August, eight months now." Spencer smiled.

"Well, wife or girlfriend, she is going to be in some serious pain when she wakes up from that sleeping arrangement. Ok, Dr. Reid, your vitals are good, everything's looking better. But you are most definitely not being discharged for at least another week."

"Ok. The doctor said I could start taking walks soon. Do you know when that might be? Any longer and I'm going to develop bed sores." Spencer folded over the corner of page with the crossword puzzle he was working on and laid the book down in his lap.

"You've only been out of the ICU for four days. I think you're safe from bed sores for the time being," the nurse returned, dryly. "The doctor should be coming in to check on you in roughly an hour and he'll be able to tell you exactly when."

"Thanks."

"Eat some solids. Jello's good, but you need some protein and vitamins."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Has he been giving you much trouble?" Rossi called from the doorway.

"Good morning, Agent Rossi. He's doing good. Just make sure he eats something besides jello."

"Duly noted," Rossi smirked and waited as she walked out of the room. "I have some visitors for you."

Reid looked behind Rossi, expecting to see one of his team members, and was surprised to see his mother standing there behind Rossi.

"Mom," Spencer pushed himself up into a better sitting position to see his mom. "How'd you get here? Are you… Dad? What are you doing here?" Spencer looked from parent to parent, confused.

"I brought her," his dad said as he led the passive Diana to a chair against the wall. "We had to sedate her a bit to so she could settle down on the plane."

"How'd you know I was here?"

"Agent Hotchner called and said you were in the hospital. We would have been here sooner, but I had to go through some red tape to bring your mother. How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing ok. Better than I was. I want to leave, but they said I have to stay for another week or so. My throat's still a bit raw, but it's nothing I can't bare. What I would really like is for them to take out this IV. The itching is driving me mad. The nurses keep yelling at me when they catch me scratching at it."

"I'm going to go get some coffee and breakfast. I'll be back in a bit," Rossi said, lifting his hand in goodbye.

"Um… do you need anything? Can I get anything for you?" William asked, uncomfortably.

Spencer shook his head and said, "No, Calliope's made sure I've got everything I need."

"Is that her?" William gestured to the still sleeping woman. Spencer nodded, smiling softly. "She refuses to leave, doesn't she?"

Startled, Spencer looked at his dad, "How'd you…?"

William walked the few steps and sat on the edge of the hospital bed. "Before you were born, when your mother and I were engaged, I was in a car accident. It wasn't terrible, but the hospital kept me for half a week. And the entire time I was in the hospital, your mother absolutely refused to leave. She slept in the chair, just like her, and chased around the nurses if they didn't bring something fast enough. She even built me a green Jell-O pyramid like the one you have over there."

"You like green Jell-O?"

Looking down, William chuckled. "I know you don't look like me anymore, Son, but you had to keep something. And… I don't know, some people told me you were too smart to find a girl, that your mind was so intellectual that you'd never achieve the social skills to have a mate, but I never believed that.

"I knew it'd take time, but you'd find a woman to love, who loves you. I always kind of figured that she'd have the same spirit your mom does. Your mom still has that spirit, you know… one that would have her refusing to leave the hospital – she just has trouble reaching it." William pursed his lips and looked up at his son, "I know I'm not much good at this. I'm sorry, Spencer. I shouldn't have left and I know that. It's something I've had to live with every single day since I did. And I'm sorry. You deserve better."

"When I was growing up, I always wanted to know why you left. I understood in an intellectual way, but not in an emotional way. I'm not always good with that part." Spencer chuckled at the oft-repeated aspect of his character as he offered his dad a green Jell-O cup and plastic spoon. "But now I'm finally starting to realize that 'why' doesn't matter anymore. Knowing why won't change the past and I can't help or change anything by wondering.

"What I want to know now is… is if we, you and I, can start over. I know I'm twenty-eight, but I still need a dad. I still need you."

A hopeful look crossed his dad's lined face and he held out his Jell-O cup towards Spencer. Chuckling, Spencer tapped his own Jell-O cup against his fathers' and the two dug in silently.

Only when the spoons where scrapping against the side of the cups did anything breach the silence. A loud thud, some scuffling, a pained 'owww' and several choice curse words filled the room and Spencer rolled his eyes and laughed. Calliope lay sprawled on the floor as she tried to untangle herself from herself.

"Third day in a row, Sweetheart."

"Shut up, Magic Man. I need caffeine before I deal with you. Or people. Or anything. Where's the coffee?" She managed to stand up, but she was still furiously scrubbing her eyes with her fists.

"Same place it always is, goof. Calliope, meet my dad, William Reid. Dad, this is my girlfriend, Calliope Sellers."

"Nice to meet you, Calliope." William held out his hand and Calliope shook it, still rubbing her eye with her other.

"I'll be more functional after coffee, I promise," Calliope mumbled as she stumbled out of the room in search of coffee.

"I like her," William smiled.

"So do I."

* * *

**A/N:**

**So I'm completely pouring my heart into this story and I hope you love it as much as I do.**

**Thanks for reading and please tell me what yo****u think, good or bad. :)**

**Love, Thalia**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_The supreme happiness in life is the conviction that we are loved." – Victor Hugo_

o o o o

9 May, 2009

The first thing Spencer was aware of as he slowly slipped from sleep was that something was keeping him from stretching his tired muscles the way he usually did when he woke up. As the fog of sleep started to fade, he registered the warm weight molded snuggly against him, the cheek that was nestled against his collarbone, the arm that was loosely wrapped around his waist, the soft hair that tickled his jawbone, and the light tug from small fingers that tangled in his overgrown hair.

He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the feel of her cuddled close to him. Spencer had thought that he would never be waking up to a woman pressed against him, especially not one like Calliope. This happiness was something he thought was reserved for a certain type of person, someone else – someone not _him_.

Keeping his eyes closed, he slowly, carefully turned his head until he could press his lips against her forehead and inhaled the faint scent of shampoo still clinging to her hair.

"I love you," he whispered softly against her forehead, pressing a lingering kiss where his words had just landed. He kept his eyes closed against the well of emotion as he said what he had wanted to tell her for months but had never dared. A small sound, somewhere between a squeak and a grunt, stilled him until she sighed and nestled more tightly against him, her leg entangled itself with his and the arm wrapped around his waist secured it's grip. It was as if her body sensed he was awake and was trying to make sure he stayed.

He opened his eyes just enough to see the mass of thick red tendrils spread out over the pillows and his chest. Spencer smiled contentedly and wrapped his free arm around her; his second arm being trapped underneath Calliope. Pulling the fleece blanket tighter around her, he rested his hand on the small of her back, careful to keep his hand on the cotton tank top covering her – he did not need to tempt himself with something he couldn't have.

The same CD that had been playing the night before when they'd fallen asleep was still playing on loop. It was Calliope's favorite jazz CD – Miles Davis' _Birth of the Cool_. Spencer smiled, remembering the hours they had filled the previous night: she'd spent hours replaying the songs, explaining to him why she loved them, pointing out the different nuances in the music. He had purposefully goaded her, teasing her because she was just so cute when she got worked up and he wanted to see the cute flush that covered her cheeks when she got exasperated.

Spencer listened to the CD, enjoyed reliving the moments and the laughter while he held the one perfect thing in his life whilst she slept. By the time the CD played through three times, the sun had risen and was pouring into the room through the big windows on either side of the fireplace. He kissed her temple again just as his phone started buzzing on the bedside table.

Slowly, as not to wake her, he stretched and grabbed the cell. The caller ID said it was JJ, but, after looking at the beautiful sleeping muse next to him, he hit the quiet button and pushed it away. He had been there for the team, for the victims, a hundred percent of his life, no matter what had been going on. But now… right now, he needed this, he needed to be here, with her. He needed to just be Spencer, not Dr. Reid, not Agent Reid, not a profiler trying to track down a psychosexual killer or a delusional rapist. He just needed to be Spencer, to spend the morning in bed with the woman of his dreams.

Not more than five minutes later his cell phone buzzed again and, again, Spencer hit the quiet button and cuddled Calliope closer to him. She had shifted slightly in her sleep over the last hour and a half, moving just far enough away that she was no longer touching him. He missed that touch; he missed the feeling of her against him. As soon as he was snuggly against her again, her hand immediately returned to his hair, tangling again in the unkempt curls.

"I love you," he whispered again into her hair, now that he'd said those three magic words he couldn't seem to stop saying them. "I love you, my sweet muse." He kissed her head and held her tightly, murmuring the words of Homer softly, the first words she had ever spoken to him.

Spencer ignored phone as it buzzed again, not bothering to hit the quiet button.

"I love you, Calliope," he whispered against her hair as his phone vibrated for a seventh time. "I can't believe this is real. You mean the absolute world to me. I mean, I've, uh, I've read about people feeling this way, but I never thought I would be this lucky."

"Believe it, Mr. Magician," Calliope pressed a kiss to the side of his throat "I'm real, you're real – _this _is real. I'm not going away, Spencer Reid." She kissed the underside of his jaw, then his cheek, before kissing him full on the mouth, using the hand that was still tangled in his hair to pull him closer. "I love you," she whispered, pulling away from his lips just far enough to speak. She opened her mouth to speak again, but Spencer was already there, kissing her as if, if he didn't, she would disappear.

Calliope pulled away eventually, smiling and snuggling close to him. He tightened his arms around her back and asked, "So how long have you been awake, exactly?"

"Since you starting reciting Homer. You know, Spencer," she teased him, "he isn't really considered a romantic writer. You're not going to find _The Odyssey _on a Hallmark card anytime soon."

"Approximately fifty percent of all the cards Americans send each year are made by Hallmark. They own the rights to the Shoebox cards, the hoops&yoyo cards you love so much, Forever Friends, Revilo, Maxine and Tippi Town Bears. In August of 2008, last year, they started producing same-sex marriage cards. I think if Hallmark owns all those – as varied as they are, I can convince them to make a Valentines card with Homer written on it. You know, they also own Crayola and Rainbow Brite. I never really did understand Rainbow Brite; she kind of creeped me out. I mea –"

Calliope cut Spencer off by kissing him again and moaned as the kiss deepened. His cell phone was still buzzing incessantly and he finally shoved it off the table onto the floor where the carpet muted the noise. Groaning, Spencer dug his fingers into her back as she pulled at his hair and bit his lip. Calliope pressed herself harder against him; she slipped her hand under his shirt and ran the tips of her fingers along his back.

Spencer screwed his eyes tightly shut, trying to keep a desperate hold on his control. God, he wanted her so badly, but he wanted to comply with her and what she wanted more. She wanted to wait and, if that's what she wanted, that's what he would do. She was more important. She had to be more important.

He pushed her away, breathing hard, and Calliope's face showed her hurt. He was rejecting her. He didn't _want_ her. Her lip quivered and tears welled up in her eyes as she rolled of the bed, tripped over the fleece blanket wrapped around her foot and stumbled out of the room.

"Calliope! No, Calliope, come back!" Spencer jumped out of the bed, the vibrating phone completely forgotten, and ran after her. The bathroom door slammed shut just as he was a yard away and he could hear her sobbing on the other side. "Calliope, please, come out."

"Leave me alone, Spencer," Her tone was harsh and stung as he took a step back in surprise. "I don't want to talk to you."

"I want to talk to you. I wasn't pushing you away, I would never push you away," Spencer gulped. He didn't know what to do. He was socially inept as it was and he and Calliope had never _really_ fought before. He'd never had a girlfriend to fight with before. He didn't know what to do. He felt… _helpless_. And he didn't like it.

"It sure seemed like you were pushing me away," she sniffed.

"Miscommunication is the number one reason relationships end, Calliope. I don't want to add to that statistic. Sweetheart, I love you more than anything. Please, sweetheart, come out so I can talk to you."

Calliope slowly opened the door and stepped out, walking directly into his arms. She sniffed as she rubbed her nose against his shirt. He brushed a chunk of blue hair out of her eyes and leaned down, kissing her gently. "I love you," he murmured, his forehead resting against hers. "I would never hurt you on purpose, Calliope. I'm sorry, so, so sorry."

"You don't want me," she whispered piteously.

"Sweetheart, you couldn't be farther from the truth." Spencer kissed her forehead and gently led her towards the living room. Sitting down on the couch, he pulled her close to him, settling her legs over his lap. "I want you so badly, Calliope. You have no idea." He looked down at her legs, trying to compose himself as he traced the pink stars on her flannel pajama bottoms. "You said that you want to wait. I respect that, but that – what we were doing, um… that doesn't, that doesn't make it easy. I don't think that I can control myself for long when we – under those conditions."

Calliope watched him for a moment before she reached out and forced him to look at her. She smiled weakly and climbed onto his lap.

"I – I'm sorry. I should be stronger. I just – I never, uh… I'm sorry."

"Shhh. I understand, Magic Man. It's ok. We'll figure it out as we go, won't we?" She sighed and rested her head on his chest, relaxing against him. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Sweetheart." He rested his cheek on the top of her head and they just sat there for a long time as they listened to the faint strains of Miles Davis floating from the bedroom.

After a while, Calliope couldn't take the vibrating of Spencer's cell phone and traipsed into the bedroom to answer it.

"Hello? Oh, hey JJ. Yeah, he's here. Just a moment." Calliope gave him one more kiss before handing him the cell phone.

"Hey, JJ. It's me. Yeah? Ok. I'm in Fredericksburg. I'll be there in about an hour." Spencer shut the phone and followed Calliope's trail into the kitchen. He walked up behind her and circled his arms around her shoulder, resting his chin on the top of her head. "The team has to go to Canada. An ex-military attempted to run over Canadian border control. I don't know the finite details yet. I don't want to go, though; I want to stay with you."

"I know, Spencer. But they need you and your brilliance," she turned around in his arms and snuggled into his embrace for a moment before moving away. "Ok, mister. Go get a shower and get dressed. I'll make you some breakfast to go."

"I love you." He kissed her again before hurrying out of the kitchen.

Calliope smiled, basking in the glow of finally hearing him say those three simple words to her. "I love you too, Magic Man."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Soooo...**

**1) Thanks for reading!! I love you all. =]**

**2) This is so completely my favorite. This was actually the original inspiration for my entire Spencer/Calliope world. So I really hope you like it.**

**3) Thanks for all the reviews. I love hearing what yall think.**

**4) Again, I love you all.**

**Love, Thalia**

**P.S. Thanks for reading and tell me what you think, good or bad!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_Laughter gives us distance. It allows us to step back from an event, deal with it and then move on. – Bob Newhart_

o o o o

13 May, 2009

Calliope tapped her foot on the cement as she leaned against her car. Checking her watch for the third time in the past minute, she sighed and looked up at the FBI office doors again. Spencer had called her three hours ago saying the team was on their way home. It had been one in the morning when she'd gotten the call, but he hadn't woken her up. She never slept well when she knew Spencer was on a case, whether he was in danger or not.

Looking at her watch again, Calliopes' head snapped up when she heard his voice call her name. She smiled widely and waved. Pushing off the car, she walked toward the team as they left the building, lost a flip-flop, retrieved the flip-flop, and then continued on until Spencer was within arms reach.

"Hi, Sweetheart," he said, giving her a quick kiss. "How long have you been waiting here?"

"I'm not sure exactly how long," Calliope said, not looking at him. "I haven't been looking at my watch."

"Liar."

"Fine, Meaniehead. Thirty-six minutes and forty-two seconds," Calliope muttered, blushing, and the team laughed for what felt like the first time in years.

"Ok, Cal," Morgan said, pulling her into a headlock, "You take Boy Genius home and I'll see you guys in three days. 'Cause, I know I'm going to sleep for the entirety those three days."

"I'm almost thirty, Morgan. When are you going to stop calling me 'Boy Genius'?" Reid asked, annoyed.

"Pen, we're going shopping Saturday, right?" Calliope cut in before Morgan could speak as Spencer threaded his fingers through hers.

"Um, duh. You'd better take me to that shoe store in Woodbridge you were telling me about. Because I'm about three months late in feeding my shoe collection," García smiled.

"Ok, guys. I'm exhausted and she has the keys. Can we finish this conversation later? You know… so we can all get some sleep, preferably before noon?" Spencer was tugging on her hand like an impatient eight-year-old.

Calliope waved at them as she let Spencer drag her away. Laughing, she unlocked the car with her remote and whacked his arm with her purse.

"Ok, so am I the only one who's seen the insane change in Spence since he met her?" JJ asked as she turned from watching Spencer and Calliope to the rest of the team.

"She's helped him improve his social skills, that for certain. He's less awkward. You know, he came over to pick something up and ended up playing with Jack. He didn't scare Jack away like he usually does with children," Hotch said, as he pulled his keys out of his pocket.

"Woah, woah, woah, hold up!" Morgan said in surprise as he stepped around Emily and Rossi to see Calliope and Reid getting into the car. "Holy shit! That's an Aston Martin. Oh my god, that's an Aston Martin."

"What's an Ashton Martin?" Emily asked confused.

"_Aston_ Martin. Morgan's favorite sports car." Rossi answer, leaning towards her like it was a secret. "He's got that car as his desktop background."

"That car is damn gorgeous! Aston Martin DBS Volante, oh my God." Morgan said, still gawking.

"What's so special?" JJ wondered aloud, "It's just a car."

"Oh no – your car is _just_ a car. _That_ car is a work of art. It can get up to 191 miles per hour. Zero to sixty-two in 4.3 seconds! And the sound system can tell when the tops down and changes it's settings automatically. Damn. That car costs more than all the houses I grew up in combined plus my college tuition…" Morgan was practically drooling as he watched the car drive away. "How much money does this chick have?"

"She and her grandfather are worth upwards of three hundred and seventy-five million," García said nonchalantly as she picked at a hangnail. The five agents turned to stare at their technical analyst in amazement. "What?" she asked, looking up from her finger. "Just because Reid didn't want to know about her doesn't mean I didn't."

"Wait… so our Reid is dating a multi-millionairess and he doesn't know it?" Rossi asked, mystified.

"Well, I don't know if he doesn't know it." García shrugged, "The Seller family's owned the Dahlia Plantation in Williamsburg since before the Civil War."

"You mean the hotel?" Prentiss asked.

"Well, now it's a hotel. It used to be a cotton plantation."

"My mom and I stayed there once," Prentiss told them. "It was a special mother-daughter thing. They have this awesome spa and restaurant – the entire place is gorgeous. They rent it out for weddings and stuff. I can't believe she owns the Dahlia."

"She owns The Hobbit Hole as well."

"The place where they met?" JJ asked, enjoying the gossip.

"Ok, well you girls have your little gab fest, I'm going to and dream about that car. Buh-bye." Morgan said, walking away.

"Mmm… my bed _is_ calling my name…" García said longingly. "We'll gossip later, my loves."

"Three days off… I don't remember what that feels like…" Hotch mutter as he and Rossi walked to where their cars were parked.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Stop messing with the thermostat and come here," Spencer called from the bed.

Laughing as she closed the door behind her, she slipped under the covers and snuggled close to him. "I don't want you to get frostbite," she teased in between chaste kisses.

"It takes about thirty minutes to get frostbite if the wind-chill makes it negative twenty-eight degrees or below. I think we're safe in the sixties, Sweetheart. And – on the off chance I'm wrong, which, by the way, has yet to happen – I know how to treat frostbite. Immerse the body part in tepid water, dry and cover with layers of blankets, and drink hot fluids to warm the body and increase blood flow to the extremities. Also, there have been exactly zero recorded episodes of frostbite in Virginia in May. In my professional opinion, Calliope, I believe it's safe to say we have a very small chance of getting frostbite." Spencer was smirking as he enjoyed holding her.

"Stop being a smartass and go to sleep."

"I'm trying. You wouldn't come to bed."

"By the way, you're not a medical professional, so you can't say that's its your professional opinion."

"Now who's being a smartass?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

JJ felt like she'd just barely closed her eyes when her phone rang.

"Hello?" she said, groggily glancing at the clock as she listened to Will and Henry watching Baby Einstein in the family room. "Are you sure we're needed? We only got in from Canada four hours ago. Alright. If you're sure. I'll call the team."

JJ called the other six members of her BAU team as she changed out of her pajamas into work clothing. Hotch was the only one not answering; the other five, all pissed as hell, answered at the very least.

Stumbling out of the bedroom, she filled a cup with coffee and explained to Will what was happening. After downing two cups of coffee, she filled her travel mug and cuddled Henry goodbye for a few moments.

"I'll be home as soon as I can," she said, kissing Will goodbye. "I love you both."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"What happened to three days off?" Calliope mumbled sleepily from where she was buried under the covers. "You've only slept three and a half hours. You're supposed to still be asleep."

"I don't know. All JJ said was it was an emergency." Spencer said from the closet.

"Ok. Oh, I bought you a new shirt to replace the one I sort of ruined with the iron."

"It's pink…" He said, walking out of the closet with it still on its hanger.

"It'll look good on you. Trust me. If you pair it with the black and white vest, you'll be lucky if I can keep my hands off you. Once I have coffee, that is. Because nothing within me functions without coffee."

"Well, make sure to have had coffee when I come back." Spencer said slyly as he leaned over and kissed her. "By the way, don't ever try and iron my cloths again."

"Ouch. I ruin one shirt and I'm branded the Internecine Ironer for life?" Calliope feigned hurt. "Also, are you trying to be sexy, Dr. Reid?"

"Maybe," he said, kissing her again.

"And here I used to think you were so shy and innocent."

* * *

**A/N:**

**No love for the chapter that started it all? I'm crushed.**

**Haha, don't worry, my loves. I'll survive to write another day. Like today, which has resulted in this update! YAY for human resilience!**

**Anywho... I hope you like it, thanks for reading and tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**

**P.S. Am I the only one who -LOVED-**** watching Reid work the pink button-down/black&white vest look in 5.01 Faceless, Nameless? If I wasn't in love with him already, I would be now. /drool**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_You block your dreams when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith. – Mary Manin Morrissey_

o o o o

13 May, 2009

"One look and I yell timber! Watch out for flying glass. Cause the ceiling fell in and the bottom fell out, I went into a spin and I started to shout – I've been hit, This is it, this is it, this is it!

"I was walking along minding my business, when love came and hit me in the eye. Flash! Bam! Alacazam! Out of an orange coloured sky!" Calliope drove down the calm suburban street with the top down, enjoying the summer breeze as she belted along with Natalie Cole, admittedly a tad more off-tune than Natalie.

"Well, one look and I yelled tim…" Calliope trailed off as she drove past a house and hit the breaks, skidding to a stop a few houses away. The force of her impromptu stop slammed her back against the seat and the painting rattled where it was secured behind her seat.

Jerking the keys out of the ignition, Calliope jumped out of the car, barely remembering to close the door behind her. Spencer was lying on the ground in front of a middle-aged man, holding his gun outstretched in front of him. Instinctively, she stayed by her car. Even she knew that running up onto the scene in hysterics was not a good idea, but she didn't like that she couldn't hear what Spencer was saying from her spot by the car. If he had even noticed her presence, his behavior didn't give it away.

She screamed and covered her ears as the gun exploded. To her relief, it was the man in the black shirt that fell to the ground and not Spencer.

"I'm fine. Go to him, go to him. Take his gun away – make sure his gun's not near him." The man who had been cowering behind Spencer stumbled over to the other man and rolled him over.

Shaking, Calliope ran across the lawns between them and dropped to her knees next to him, pulling her cardigan off and pressing it against his leg, trying not to look as blood seeped through the cloth.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Spencer yelled at her. "You should not be here, you know better –"

"I was going to deliver a painting a block away from here. I didn't know you were here until I passed. The painting's in the car if you want proof, but I wouldn't suggest it. Just hold the fuck still!" The sirens intensified as Calliope applied pressure more evenly, trying desperately to make her hands stop shaking.

"The medics are almost here. Can you keep him stabilized?" Spencer called to the man leaning over the man lying on the floor.

"Yes I think so. Hold on, hold on."

Calliope heard the man talking as if she was inside a glass box surrounded by packing peanuts and bubble wrap – she could hear his words, but nothing made sense. Everything was static white noise. She angled her body away from the other two men and picked a spot on Spencers' vest to look at. All she had to do was not look at his leg and she'd be ok. _He'd_ be ok.

"I need a backboard and a C-collar, stat."

"Coming right up.

Not quite realizing what was happening, Calliope let the man with bloody hands nudge her away from Spencer. He thrust the cardigan into her dripping hands and examined the gunshot wound.

"I think it went clean through."

"You might have just saved his life."

"Keep pressure on this," the man said.

"I'm good. I'm fine. Go to your son. I'm good. I'm fine."

Numbly, Calliope moved back, reapplying pressure on both sides of his leg. She wasn't aware of the tears on her face until Spencer reached up and made to wipe them away.

"Call –" When he saw the smudges of blood his fingers left on her cheek he yanked his hand back. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

JJ and Morgan were running to them from the cars with Rossi trailing behind them.

"You ok?" J.J. asked

"Yeah, I'm fine." Spencer said.

"Well get you to a hospital."

"Are you ok?" J.J. asked pointedly to Calliope, gesturing at the blood covering her chest, stomach and arms.

"What…? Oh, no. I'm fine. It's – it's not mine." Calliope managed to say, still dazed and in a haze of mental protection.

"She's in shock," Rossi said softly so that it didn't permeate Calliopes' consciousness but the agents around him heard.

"You need to find Emily. Call Emily." Reid told them, hissing in pain.

"Where is she?" Rossi asked.

"Something's happened to Hotch," Reid said, his own worry plain in his eyes.

"Excuse me." Three medics came over and pushed their way to Reid. One pulled Calliope aside and Spencer watched like an overprotective parent.

"She's going into an acute stress reaction – a psychological condition that occurs because of a terrifying or stressful situation."

"Sir… I know what ASD is. Just let me take care of her," the woman said, an annoyed edge to her voice as she gently took the sopping sweater from Calliopes' arms. "Ma'am, can you tell me your name?"

"Her name's Calliope Sellers. She's already experiencing derealization and she's unable to actually comprehend everything that's going on. She's detaching herself from reality." Reid called, ignoring the medics as they wrapped gauze tightly above his knee.

"I promise, Agent, I know how to do my job. She'll be fine if you just _please_ stop interfering and let me take care of this." Turning back to Calliope, she repeated her question.

Shaking harder, she answer, "Calliope Kirsten Se – Sellers."

Three questions in she burst into tears and, for the first time since any of them had known him, Spencer lost his temper.

"Dammit! Can't you see she's terrified?!"

"Spence!" J.J. moved so she was blocking Reid's view and Morgan walked over to Calliope. "Spence, you need to calm down. Getting upset isn't going to help anything."

"Hey there, Pretty Lady," Morgan said as he squatted next to Calliope and took her hand, speaking in a voice that was reminiscent of how one would talk to a small, scared child. "You're going to be ok. Spencer's gonna be ok, too. The dangers over, you know that, right, Cal?"

She nodded through her hiccups and squeezed his hand like a lifeline.

"Why don't we get you over to the ambulance?" Morgan suggested, looking at the medic for approval. "Yeah, lets do that. C'mon, Cal, I'll help you." Carefully helping her up, Morgan led her away and Reid gritted his teeth in anger.

"Reid! You need to calm down." J.J. said, physically making him look at her. "She's going to be fine if you calm down. Getting agitated is just going to make everything worse."

Angrily, he turned away and scowled, wincing occasionally as they lifted him onto the stretcher and wheeled him to the ambulance. Calliope was leaning against the wall of the ambulance with her eyes closed as they lifted Reid in. Morgan was about to jump out when Calliope called his name. Turning around, he took the keys she held out.

"I can't drive," she mumbled and her shaking hands were proof enough that she was right. "Could you stop and drop off the painting? The address is already plugged into the GPS. It's only a block away."

"Of course, Cal. Stop worrying. Everything's gonna be fine," Morgan shot her a reassuring smile before jumping out the back and walking over to where Rossi and JJ waited.

Morgan fiddled with the keys while the ambulance drove away. "Ya know… twelve hours ago, I'd have passed out at the thought of actually being able to drive this car. Now, it just seems silly."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The ride had been silent thus far and, with him and his leg stable, the EMTs had finally stilled. Spencer hadn't stopped watching the crying muse, but he couldn't bear her crying anymore.

"Calliope?" He spoke softly. When she opened her eyes, he held out his hand a bit and she slowly slid herself over to him and threaded her fingers through his. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I'm sorry." His heart broke when she didn't reply and simply closed her eyes tightly, squeezing more tears out in the process.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing her fingers.

"I love you too," she whispered in kind, leaning over slowly and kissing him. Spencer reveled in the warmth of her soft lips against his, but hated the feeling of her tears as they dropped from her cheeks to his and the way her hand still shook in his. "I love you too, Spencer."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"I just talked to Spence and he's gonna be fine. He's gonna have to be on crutches for a while but he said kicking down doors is Morgans' job anyway." JJ told Morgan and Prentiss as she walked up. Prentiss chuckled before asking about Calliope. "She's not away yet. The doctors gave her some medicine to help her sleep and said she shouldn't be awake until later tonight. Physically she'll be fine though."

"You know, Foyet having your credentials had nothing to do with any of this," Prentiss told the solemn Morgan. "It was just his way of trying to torture you."

"Yeah, I know," Morgan sighed. "Foyet's about power and control and he's just hoping to watch me fall apart. Now he wants to destroy Hotch."

"Exactly," Prentiss continued. "That's his plan and now we fight it."

The trio watched silently as Haley and Jack got into the Marshall service car from the window of the second story. Haley looked up and offered an awkward wave before getting in the car. The nondescript car drove away and the trio walked away, each deep in their own thoughts.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

When Calliope next blinked her eyes open, she was in a bed she didn't recognize, in a room she didn't know. The window behind the bed showed the night sky and she closed her eyes again, laying her cheek back on the pillow.

She drew in a long shaky breath and tried to stop the tears she knew she had no control over. The rapid increase in her heart rate as her body shook with sobs brought the nurse running in.

"Ms. Sellers, take some deep breaths for me. You're going to be fine, just take some long, slow breaths." It took a few minutes, but Calliope managed to regain control and slowly her heart rate returned to normal. Calliope smiled weakly and took the tissue the nurse offered.

She was blowing her nose loudly when a familiar knock on the door made her smile and she looked up into the comforting face of her grandfather.

"Grandpa…" Her eyes watered again and she held out her arms like a toddler wanting its parent to pick them up.

"I'm here, Peanut." He said as he strode over and sat down on the edge of her bed. She immediately latched her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, inhaling the soothing scent of vanilla pipe tobacco that always clung to him. "It's ok, Callie. It's going to be ok, Peanut."

"I wanna go home, Grandpa."

"We'll go home as soon as they release you, ok?" Benjamin stroked her hair and kissed her forehead reassuringly. "We'll stop by Spencer's room before we leave so you can see him. How does that sound?"

"N-no."

Startled, Ben pulled away from his granddaughter and looked at her. "What?"

"I don't want to see Spencer," Calliope hiccupped.

"Why not, Peanut?" He pressed, confused.

"I just don't. I don't want to see him. I just want to go home and forget all of this ever happened."

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**A/N:**

**Ahhhh, so this chapter was crazy hard to write, but I swear I know where I'm going with it. Scouts honour!**

**First off - any scenes or dialogue recognizable belongs to the brilliant Charles S. Carroll (director), Jeff Davis (creator/writer), and Chris Mundy (writer) from the episode 5X01 Faceless, Nameless. And mad props to whoever picked out Gubler's outfit for this episode. I want a poster of it so I can put it on my wall and admire the sexiness.**

**Second, I promise I'm being very careful in how I incorporate this fic into the Foyet arc so I disturb the initial plot as little and as painlessly as possible, because, lets be honest - can anyone -**_**really-**_** improve the Criminal Minds?**

**Aaannnnywho... Thanks for reading! I hope you love it as much as I do (though I'm not exactly a biased reviewer, now am I?)!**

**Thanks so much for following so far and please tell me what you think, good or bad!!**

**Love, Thalia**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do no own Criminal Minds.**

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"_The most terrible poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being unloved." – Mother Theresa_

o o o o

20 May, 2009

Spencer cursed bitterly as the foot of his crutch caught on the corner of the counter and he lurched forward, the mobile he had balanced precariously between his ear and shoulder clattered to the tile floor. He managed to catch himself by grabbing the top of the island before he followed the cell phone to the floor.

_"Hi! Calliope's answering machine is broken – this is her refrigerator! Please speak slowly and I'll stick your message to myself with one of these awesome glitter magnets. Oh! Oh! Or her epic new sushi magnets…" _Spencer squeezed his eyes and gritted his teeth as pain shot up his leg.

By the time he'd managed to pick up the phone the window for leaving a message had long passed and, frustrated, he tossed it over the bar and onto the wilting couch in the living room.

"I hate crutches," he muttered to himself as he slowly maneuvered himself out of the kitchen and over to the couch. Edging himself down, he propped his leg up on a pillow and flipped the TV on absentmindedly. Grabbing the glass of water on the coffee table and popped the top off the prescription of Tylenol 3. After swallowing the pill, he hit his most commonly used speed dial and waited until the ringing gave way to her voicemail.

_"Hi! Calliope's answering machine is broken – this is her refrigerator! Please speak slowly and I'll stick your message to myself with one of these awesome glitter magnets. Oh! Oh! Or her epic new sushi magnets…"_

"Hey, Sweetheart. It's, um, it's me – Spencer. I, uh, I miss you. I guess I just keep calling when you're away from your cell. I'll try again later. I love you, Calliope. Very, very much, Sweetheart. Please, call me back."

Sighing, he leaned his head back, and dropped the phone in his lap. He knew she wasn't going to call him back, he knew that he wasn't just missing her when he called. She'd been avoiding his calls for the past seven days, avoiding the calls of García and Morgan, Emily and JJ. Even Dr. Sellers was avoiding his calls, though, two days ago, Spencer had managed to trick him into answering his cell phone by calling using Morgans' mobile when he was being carted back from the hospital after a post-op.

"_Dr. Sellers? Wait! Please – don't hang up! It's Spencer."_

"_I know it's you, Spencer," Dr. Sellers sighed and Reid could hear him close a door on the other side of the line._

"_What – what's going on? Calliope won't pick up my calls and she won't call me back. And you're avoiding me as well – I know you are. Why? Did I do something? Did I –"_

"_Spencer, you haven't done anything wrong," Dr. Sellers told him, the exhaustion evident in his voice. "What happened scared her. She loves you, Spencer. Seeing the reality of your job up close in person made her panic. If you had tackled that doctor half a second later or at a slightly different angle, she might have watched you die."_

"_She… I…" Reid shook his head to clear his mind. "Dr. Sellers, I love my job, but… but I love your granddaughter more. If I have to choose between my job and being with her, my decision could not be more clear."_

"_I know that, Dr. Reid. I do. I know that you'd –"_

_Reid could hear the door opening and closed his eyes as he heard her unrecorded voice for the first time since "I love you too, Spencer" in the ambulance five days ago._

"_Grandpa? Who are you talking to?"_

"_Just a friend. You ok, Callie?"_

"_Um… yeah. I'm ok. What would you like for dinner?"_

"_There's some chicken in the fridge. How about I grill that up when I'm finished talking? You could make some rice or pasta to go with it, if you'd like."_

"_Ok. I'll get everything out. Say 'hi' to whoever you're talking to for me."_

_Reid wiped the water from his eyes before it fell, not wanting to cry in front of Morgan. He spoke again when he heard the door close, "Calliope's with you?"_

"_Yes. She hasn't gone home yet. She's staying with me."_

"_Is she ok? What'd the doctors say? How's she doing? Does she have PTSD?"_

"_She's doing all right. She's having nightmares, but she's so-so when she's awake. Much quieter then she usually is, but every day she gets a little bit better. The doctors say that it's too soon to tell if she has PTSD, but they have her on Xanax for the time being. They tried Ambien CR for a two nights, but took her back off because it caused her nightmares got worse."_

"_How bad are her nightmares?"_

"_Bad. She can't tell me what they're about. All I know is she screams herself awake every night. Always screaming for you. I have to go, Spencer. She's calling for me."_

"_Can I… Can I see her? I can't drive, but I can take a train to Frederi –"_

"_No. She doesn't want to see you yet. She's not ready. Spencer, I will let you know, I promise you that, but not yet."_

"_Ok, alright." Reid wiped his had over his face. "Thank you, Dr. Sellers."_

"_Goodbye, Spencer."_

_Reid shut the phone and handed it back to Morgan. "Thanks."_

"_You ok, man?" Morgan asked, looking at him briefly before turning back to the road._

"_No," Reid answered honestly. "My leg's nothing compared to knowing that she won't answer my calls, to knowing that I can't hear her voice or hold her hand because she doesn't want to talk to me or see me."_

"_Do you know what you're going to do?"_

"_I don't know, Morgan. I honestly don't know."_

"_Reid, are you gonna leave us, man?"_

"_I don't want to. I don't… I mean… Ugh, I need to think, I need to think…" Spencer rubbed his temples viciously, trying to force his mind to think clearly. "I love her, Morgan, I really, truly love her and I hate it that I'm causing her pain. In a week, she'll most likely be diagnosed with posttraumatic stress disorder. She's screaming herself awake from night terrors every night. They have her on Xanax. She's quiet and sedate. Dammit, I heard her talking to Dr. Sellers – if I didn't know her voice, I wouldn't have even known it was her speaking. She isn't herself and she's hurting and it's all because of me and what I do for a living._

"_I love my job, Morgan, you know that. I love being a profiler, I love working at the BAU, I love being part of this family. But it's hurting her…"_

"_She's important. She's special. We know that, Reid. We all see the difference in you since you've been with her. You've grown more in the past eight months than you have in the entire time I've known you. She's changed you, I think for the better, and, for better or worse, you've changed her._

"_You can't walk away from her. But you can't walk away from this job, either. This job, whether we want it to or not, is part of all of us. Being Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid, Profiler for the BAU is who you are; walking away from this job won't change that. But, you can't walk away from her, either, because she's part of who you're becoming._

"_What you have to do now is try and find a way to reconcile the two - to remain the man you are now and embrace the man you're becoming."_

"_Sounds difficult, challenging and all around exhausting," Reid sighed as Morgan pulled them into the parking lot of Reid's building. The engine died as Morgan pulled the keys out of the ignition and hopped out of the car. He grabbed Reid's crutches out of the back and helped his friend out of the car._

"_C'mon kiddo, let's get you upstairs."_

"_I can get up by myself, Morgan. I'll take the elevator."_

"_You sure?"_

"_Yeah, I've got it. Thanks for taking me, Morgan. It was a huge help."_

"_No big, Reid... Hey, kid."_

_Reid turned around awkwardly on his crutches and looked at his friend._

"_You know my sisters, right? Sarah and Desiree."_

"_Yeah, I know your sisters. What about them?"_

"_I love my sisters, but when I was growing up I always to have a brother."_

"_Heh, I always just wanted a sibling."_

"_I think I finally know what having a brother would be like now, Spencer. Thanks."_

"_Yeah, you too, Derek." Reid smiled._

"_I'll call and check on you later, kay?"_

"_Ok, Dad," Reid joked, rolling his eyes._

The phone buzzed in his lap and Spencer jerked back to reality, bringing the phone to his ear. "Calliope? Hello? Sweetheart? Hello?"

He pulled the phone down and groaned aloud, "How can anyone as smart as I am be so ridiculously stupid?" He hit a button on his phone and read the text message from Morgan before tapping out a response.

"Ok, I can't do this. See? I'm talking to myself. This is a bad sign. So why am I still talking to myself. Ok, stopping now."

He hadn't left his apartment since Morgan dropped him off two days ago and, quiet obviously, he was going stir-crazy. Hobbling across his apartment he grabbed his messenger bag, shoved the anti-inflammatory and Tylenol 3 in the bag, stuck his wallet in his pocket and snatched his keys. He managed to make his way down the elevator to the street with few mishaps and made it into a cab with relative ease.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

He shuffled up the long pathway to the sprawling bungalow, a feeling of calm overcoming him as he took a long, grateful breath of the mixed aromas from his muses' garden, listened to the jingling of her wind chimes.

Spencer stumbled twice on the three steps up to the porch and had to stop for a minute to readjust the wretched crutches before slipping his key into the front door lock. The air was eerily still and silence felt foreign as he closed and locked the door behind him. The first thing he did was press the button on the radio so that the recently familiar voice of Natalie Cole floated out of the speakers hooked around the house and brought the space to life the way he was used to it.

He'd known she wasn't going to be here when he set out with this destination in mind, but he needed to be here, surrounded by her presence. Slowly making his way to the master bedroom in the corner of the house, he ignored his hunger and dropped himself onto the bed, groaning as his knee jerked.

The bedroom was the same as the last morning he'd been in it. His pajamas were still in a pile next to the bed. Leaning over and picking them up, he slowly changed out of his clothes and slipped on the pajamas. He got into the bed, pulled up the blanket and grabbed the pillow he knew she used.

Spencer curled himself around the soft pillow, burying his face in it, inhaling her scent and, for the first time since he'd finished high school, cried himself to sleep.

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**A/N:**

**Hope you like it.**

**Thanks for reading.**

**Please tell me what you think, good or bad.**

**Love, Thalia**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

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"_Dreams are illustrations… from the book your soul is writing about you." – Marsha Norman_

o o o o

24 May, 2009

"_Good morning, String Bean," she yawned, kissing his cheek as she rolled over to rest her head on his chest. Spencer held her securely as she got comfortable and relaxed against him. This was his favorite part of the day: holding her while she woke up. She was the heaviest sleeper he'd ever met and always woke up after he did, leaving him plenty of time to enjoy watching her or to think. Today had been the latter._

"_Morning, Sweetheart," he said absentmindedly, staring into her hair._

"_Good or bad thoughts?" She asked sleepily, curling closer to him, warming her cold fingers by sneaking them under his shirt and flattening them against his back._

"_Not very good today," he admitted, coming back from his thoughts and wrapping the blanket around her tighter, kissing her temple. 'I love you' he thought to himself, not brave enough to tell her yet._

"_Talk?"_

_He didn't say anything, but simply squeezed her a little tighter, resting his cheek against her hair. He closed his eyes and just enjoyed the citrus scent of her shampoo._

"_I went to go see Adam Jackson again yesterday."_

"_Amanda?" She asked, yawning again and tracing small circles on his lower back with her fingernail._

_Spencer nodded, "Yeah."_

"_Has she, I mean, he… Um, any progress?" She flustered for the right word, her need for coffee evident in her voice._

"_It's ok," he said, understanding. "And no. Not really. Amanda still won't let Adam out. I feel like I failed him."_

"_Spencer, you have not failed him," Calliope looked into his face, searching. "You can't just fix him, String Bean. He's not some magic trick that, if you work at it enough will work itself out."_

"_I know that," he said, an angry edge to his voice, and, when he felt her physically edge away from him, he shook his head and apologized, "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I just… I want to be able to help him so badly."_

"_You can't save everyone, Spencer." She reached up and curved her palm to his cheek, "You can't protect everyone. Some people are beyond even you."_

"_I know," he said, pressing a kiss to her palm. "But what happens when it's the wrong person I can't protect?"_

"_What do you mean?" She asked, snuggling back into his embrace, her breath warm against his neck. Spencer didn't answer immediately, but rather ducked his head down and caught her lips with his. Her small fingers knotted in the ends his brown curls, exactly as he knew they would, and he smiled at the way he could predict her actions._

'_I love you,' he thought again, not daring to say the words aloud._

"_I don't know – it's nothing, Sweetheart." He pushed himself up and reached for her hand, "Let's get you some coffee before your body gets so confused as to where it's caffeine is that it goes into a coma."_

_Calliope laughed, let him pulled her up and stumbled ahead of him into the kitchen._

"_What happens if I can't protect you?" He whispered to himself, closing his eyes to shake away the thought._

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer buried his head in the purple quilt, trying to block out the memories that he didn't want to think about. He wanted to focus on a different morning – one where he was just happy to hold her and smile at her occasional snores or sneezes – but the throbbing pain in his knee that had woken him up in the first place would not allow itself to be ignored.

He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed the silver pocket watch she'd given him for Christmas.

Six forty-three am.

He was over an hour and a half late in taking the anti-inflammatory prescription. Several minutes of struggling later had him in the kitchen pouring a glass of water and swallowing the offending pills. He picked up the Tylenol 3 bottle, mentally debating whether or not to take one. Spencer had decided not to take the medication when the searing pain shooting up his leg at the slightest movement changed his mind for him.

The only good thing about taking the medicine was the combination of the two put him to sleep within an hour and sleeping was the only thing Spencer wanted to do.

Sitting down at the table, he hungrily eat the bowl of soup he had preciously heated up and carried over to the breakfast area, managing to avoid toppling over and throwing soup everywhere, but only just barely. He sopped up the last bit of soup in the bowl with a slice of the rye bread Calliope kept and Spencer was still just beginning to get used to.

Feeling guilty, he looked at the dish mountain in the sink and knew he should do the four days worth of dishes, but really just wanted to go back to bed. Shuffling away from the guilt as fast as he could, he left the kitchen area and went back to the bedroom. Carefully getting back into the comfortable bed, he could feel his eyes closing again and barely managed to press _play_ on the DVD player before he started to slip back into sleepy oblivion.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

_"Hey, Reid!" Reid turned around at the sound of his name only to find Morgan had already thrown a bag at him._

_"What's this?" He asked, warily, as he awkwardly caught the bag around the other things in his hands._

_Morgan laughed and put his arm around his co-workers' shoulder, "Just a little something-something for if you ever call Lila again."_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

_"Mom, you have to eat something. You haven't eaten all day."_

_"Yes, I did, Spencer. I ate before I lectured on The Book of the Knight of the Tower. Such a good lecture. My students were very involved today, just the way they're supposed to be."_

_"You haven't lectured today, Mom. Please, let me get you something to eat."_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"_Hey there, Henry." Spencer said, smiling down at the little baby in his arms. "It's just you and me tonight. Yeah, you're mom and dad are going out. But, just between you and me, I had to trick your mom into thinking it was her idea. It wasn't. I have to spend some time with my godson, though. García's been stealing you away every chance she gets."_

_Henry gurgled and reached out a tiny fist._

"_I don't think it's fair either, Henry. But don't worry, I won't let Garía put you in anything too effeminate. You don't know what effeminate means? I don't think it matters, kiddo. You don't need brains if you get your mom's looks."_

_Spencer smiled down at his godson and kissed his forehead, laughing as the tiny hand latched onto his hair and pulled for all he was worth._

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"_You don't look like me anymore – you used to, everybody said so."_

"_They say some people look like their dogs too. It is attributed to prolonged mutual exposure – elderly couples also. They unconsciously mimic the expression of people they've been around their whole life. So it kinda make sense that I wouldn't really look like you anymore – I haven't seen you in twenty years."_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

He had to go to the bathroom. Pushing back the quilt, he groped in the dark for his crutches, stumbling more then usual as he made his way to the master bath off the bedroom, still more then half asleep. He tripped over the rug on his way back and cursed as he pushed himself up off the ground.

It took him a good ten minutes to get back on his feet and position the crutches so he could make it back to the bed. He was about to get back into the bed, but stopped and pulled off the dirty, reeking pajamas he'd been wearing for four days and slipped back into bed in his boxers. He wanted to take a shower or some version of bathing, but, after one horribly failed attempt, he knew he wouldn't be able to do that by himself yet and there was no way in hell he was asking Morgan. Once settled in the bed, he pressed his favorite speed dial and prayed she'd pick up.

_"Hi! Calliope's answering machine is broken – this is her refrigerator! Please speak slowly and I'll stick your message to myself with one of these awesome glitter magnets. Oh! Oh! Or her epic new sushi magnets…"_

"I love you, Sweetheart. Please call me back."

Sadly putting his phone on the end table, Spencer picked up the remote and pressed _play_ a second time, restarting the movie he'd fallen asleep during. He knew he would fall asleep again, but watching _The Jane Austin Book Club_ made him smile and think happily of her.

His eyes began to drift shut as Grigg explained the faux-vampire scene to Jocelyn and he curled himself around Calliope's pillow and brought her smiling face to his mind.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

25 May, 2009

"_Spencer! Spencer?! Where are you? I'm scared, Spencer…" Calliope was crying, stumbling through a forest he didn't recognize._

"_I'm over here, Sweetheart!" He called out to her, but she didn't seem to hear him and kept lurching forward, crying for him. "Calliope! Calliope, I'm over here! Turn around!" He ran towards her, tripping over tree roots and stones. He fell to his knees and heard a terrifyingly familiar laugh as Calliope screamed._

"_Foyet! Leave her alone, Foyet!" Spencer yelled, pulling out his gun, trying to find him. "Foyet! She can't hurt you, you coward! Come out here and face someone who can!"_

_Foyet stepped out from behind a tree, a maniacal grin covering his face as he displayed a dripping knife. Enraged, Spencer emptied his gun into Foyet's chest and watched the man crumple backwards before running past him to where he had come from._

"_Calliope? Calliope! No! No! No!"_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"No! No! No! Calliope, no! Calliope!" Spencer twisted and turned in the bed, shouting himself hoarse.

"Shhh, calm down, Spencer. I'm right here. I'm fine, String Bean. I'm right here. You're ok, everybody's ok."

The small, soft hand on his cheek and the quietly persistent voice pulled him from the nightmare and into the morning sunrise, looking into the face of the one person he desperately wanted to see.

"Calliope?" He said in hopeful disbelief, holding his hand out to brush her cheek. When she caught his hand with hers and pressed a kiss to its' palm before cupping it to her cheek, he couldn't stop the tears that fell with as emotion washed over him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I love you, Calliope, I'm so sorry."

"It's ok, Spencer, I'm right here. It was just a nightmare." She cuddled close to him, letting herself press fully against him, ignoring the fact that he was only wearing boxers. He needed the reassurance of having her next to him – she knew that, so she overlooked her own rule for the first time, resting her head on his chest, tangling her fingers into his hair, gently soothing him with the other.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he whispered into her hair as if that were all he could say.

"Shhh," she pressed a gentle finger to his lips. "I love you too, Spencer Reid. I'm right here. We're both safe and sound, Sweetie." Calliope caught his trembling face and kissed him fully, succeeding in giving him something tangible to focus on. Spencer wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly while he kissed her as if she'd disappear if he let go.

He was finally still and calm when Calliope made to leave and he latched onto her hand, not wanting her to leave. "It's ok, Spencer," She whispered, moving back and brushing his greasy hair out of his eyes. "I'm just going to get your medicine. I'll be right back, I promise."

Reluctantly letting go, he watched her flit out of the room and didn't relax his body until her slight form reappeared in the doorframe. He washed down the anti-inflammatory, shaking his head at the Tylenol 3 – he didn't want to fall back asleep just yet.

"I'm sorry," he told her as she sat down next to him again.

"No, Spencer, don't be sorry," she said, taking one of his hands in both of hers, bringing it to her lap and tracing his palm lines with one slender finger. She flattened her hand against his, his fingers extending a knuckle and a half longer than hers.

Spencer chuckled, folding the tips of his fingers over to hold hers. He liked how small she was next to him, liked that her hands fit like a dolls in his, how she just barely past his shoulder when she was standing next to him. He love how, even though he wasn't Morgan, he could pick her up and spin her around when he wanted to.

"Spencer? Are you even listening to me?" Calliope laughed as she watched him playing with their hands.

"What? I'm sorry, I was thinking," Spencer admitted sheepishly.

"It's ok, String Bean. Scootch up, I wanna cuddle," she smiled at him, patting the pillow next to her. With her help, he got himself into a proper sitting position and she tucked herself against his side, wrapping her arm around his stomach and resting her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Spencer."

"What? No, you have nothing to be –"

"Spencer…" She said, quietly and he stopped. "I'm sorry, Spencer. I got scared and I ran and I'm sorry. I love you, Spencer Reid. The idea of anything happening to you, I… I don't know how to wrap my head around the thought of loosing you. I can't think about not waking up to you or falling asleep without being close to you. I can handle when you're away because I know you'll be coming back to me. I don't know what to do if you don't come back."

"Calliope, I'll always come back because I have the most important reason in the world to make sure that I do. I love you, my beautiful muse, very, very much. Knowing you're here waiting for me to come home is the most motivating thought in the world. Whatever happens, I promise you, I will make sure I come home," Spencer tilted her face up with his index finger and kissed her, trying to convey how much he meant what he said.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Um, so**

**1) Merry Christmas!! There's a Spencer/Calliope Christmas short coming as soon as I finish it. :o)**

**2) Thanks for reading! I really hope you like Calliope and that you like her with Spencer. 3**

**3) Alsoooooo... I'm a visual person and so I had a shit-ton of fun putting together online albums at [ .com/home/Thalia_Gratiae ] and the password to get in is "Calliope". Nothing special, just her name.**

**4) Thanks again for reading and tell me what you think, good or bad! :)**

**Love, Thalia**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. **

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"_But friendship is precious, not only in the shade, but in the sunshine of life and, thanks to a benevolent arrangement, the greater part of life is sunshine." – Thomas Jefferson_

o o o o

25 May, 2009

"Hey, Derek," Calliope said into her phone, "Yeah, I've got him. He's safe and sound. He's been hiding out at my house the entire time. Yes, ok, I'll tell him. Ha! Really now? Mmkay, I'll edit and relay that last message too. He's coming out of the bathroom; I'll talk to you later. Yeah, you too, D. Bye, Derek."

Calliope smiled softly at the adorable image Spencer made as he shuffled slowly out of the bathroom into view, stumbling a few times. His lanky frame did not lend itself well to being dependent upon crutches and his frustration was getting more and more pronounced with each stumble and lurch.

"You've had a lot of people really worried about you, String Bean," she told him, holding the door open so he could get out into the living room without crashing into the doorframe. "Derek just called. He's been freaking out wondering where you've been."

"What'd you tell him?" he asked, easing himself down onto a chair.

"That you've been here and that you're safe. He sends two messages: the first is to tell you he's quote 'pissed as hell' at you for disappearing and the second message, a highly edited version, is that he's going to put you back on crutches as soon as you get off this pair," she handed him a glass of water and the anti-inflammatory pill. "Hey, don't make that face. I already agreed to not force any more Tylenol 3 or any other painkillers down your throat so don't fight the anti-inflammatory or I'll call Morgan and J.J. and you'll be lucky if that's the only thing they shove down."

Spencer downed the pill and handed the glass back to her. "Thank you."

"For forcing you to take medicine? In that case, save your thanks for when you get the flu and I make you drink Mammy's secret cure-all. Works wonders but tastes like warmed up shit."

"For taking care of me," he said as she bustled around the kitchen.

"It's my job," she said, her hands in a sink full of soapy water.

"But it's not, Calliope."

"I'm your girlfriend, correct?" She asked, scrubbing one of the many dishes he'd left piled up since he'd been there.

"Yes…"

"Well then, according to the Good Wife's Guide, I'm supposed to 'make you comfortable,' 'arrange your pillow' and be 'concerned about your needs'. All the while speaking in a 'low, soothing and pleasant voice'." Calliope told him, putting the dish on the drying rack and starting another.

Spencer was silent for a minute, eerily silent, before saying quite calmly, "If you ever become like that, I'm admitting you to the hospital for testing. Besides, that article has been debunked as a fraud most likely written by a man. When you look closely at the scan of it, you can see the square boxes around each bullet point, which indicates a computer that was non-existent in 1955. Or, at the very least, extreme prowess with a copy machine. Also, along the side of the comic, is written 'Advertising Archives,' but the Advertising Archives weren't created until 1990. The image probably came from the magazine John Bull. The version of the comic that's circulating on 'The Good Wife's Guide' came from a 1957 cover with the caption 'Woman at the Wheel!'"

"Once again, I make a joke and you completely miss it," she giggled, rinsing the soap off a glass and stacking it with the rest to dry. "If you wanted someone like that, you wouldn't be with me."

"I don't want someone like that. I don't want _someone_: I want you."

"Good, 'cause that's who you've got. Oh! Oh! It's three! Put on Gilmore Girls!"

"You've seen them all hundreds of times. Why are you still watching it?" He asked as he nevertheless picked up the remote and turned the television to ABC as the intro was playing.

"Yeah, but I don't have a photographic memory like someone in the house."

"That pertains to things I read, not watch."

"Hush you, I like this show. It's my favorite! Ohhh, I love this episode. It's the one where Rory goes to Yale and Lorelai spends the night there."

"Psht, Yale."

"If you diss Washington and Lee, you're sleeping on the porch, Mr. I-Graduated-From-Cal-Tech."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Who the hell is that?" Calliope wondered aloud as she wondered towards the door being knocked on.

"We brought dinner!" Penelope sang out as Calliope opened the door. Dumbfounded, she moved back and allowed the horde to shuffle into the house before closing the door on the damp evening air.

"How'd you know where I live?"

"Cal, we've got our own tech goddess who can find anything she wants," Morgan chuckled, gesturing towards Penelope.

"But… what are you all doing here?"

"Family takes care of family," J.J. smiled, a few bags in her arms. Calliope smiled widely and took some of her bags.

"Spencer's lying down right now. He's not taking any Tylenol 3 anymore so he's in a lot of pain and he keeps trying to convince me he's not, but I can see through that in a Peloponnesian minute."

"Because of the dilaudid," Morgan said to no one in particular.

"Dilaudid? You mean like the painkiller? Isn't dilaudid a type of morphine or something? What does that have to do with Spencer?" Calliope asked, confused.

"Reid didn't tell you?" Hotch asked, his forehead wrinkling.

"Obviously not, what are you talking about?" She followed the team into her kitchen and watched as they busied themselves with anything but answering her question. J.J. and Emily were untying the plastic grocery bags and pulling out containers while Penelope and Morgan brought down some plates and glasses after finding them in the cupboard. Rossi began pouring seven glasses of wine and Hotch, ever watchful, surveyed from behind the counter.

"Hey!" Calliope said, loudly, causing them all to stop and look at her. "This is my house and you are all completely welcome because you're Spencer's friends and, I'd like to think, we're becoming friends too. But the facts are this is my house, you have come over without an invitation, you've hacked my information to find out where I live because, FYI, this is an unlisted address for a reason and one of you, I don't care which one, will tell me what's going on or you will leave."

"Sweetheart?" Spencer's voice was soft, ashamed, and Calliope whirled around to see him standing in the doorframe of the bedroom. She silently strode towards him and then slipped past him into the room; grimacing, Spencer took a deep breath and closed the door behind him.

"Did we just get him in trouble?" Emily asked, in a hushed tone.

"I'm not sure," Rossi answered. "All I know is that I'm glad I'm on this side of that door right now."

"I didn't know Cal didn't know," Morgan tried to explain, feeling guilty for bringing up the subject his friend had left untouched. "I wouldn't have said anything if I knew Reid hadn't told her."

"It's not your fault, Morgan," Hotch said, taking the glass of wine Rossi offered him.

"Let's just get the food all set up. Maybe they'll work it out and…" J.J. trailed off as the team unwillingly listening to the raised voice across the house. "Or maybe they won't."

"They'll be fine," Rossi said. "They've been through Anthrax and bullets already. If that hasn't broken them, this won't either."

"You lied to me!"

The shout was so loud and angry that not one of the agents in the kitchen could help but wince.

"You didn't think I needed to know? So what exactly do I need to know? You're favorite colour? Favorite food? Astrological sign? Because I personally classify having been addicted to Dilaudid under the 'need to know' header."

"That doesn't sound good," Penelope said, looking worriedly towards the yelling as her hands stilled over the salad she had been tossing.

The door exploded open and Calliope stormed into view for a moment before slamming the back porch door behind her as she left the house. Spencer hobbled slowly into the kitchen before slowly sitting down at the kitchen table and massaging his forehead.

"Shouldn't you go after her?" Morgan asked, pointing at the door Calliope had just stormed through with his thumb.

"No." Spencer answered. "She'll be back in sixteen minutes."

"Sixteen? Exactly sixteen?" Emily questioned skeptically.

"Sixteen. Trust me – I have travelled this family of creeks before and I am not without a paddle. Calliope needs to calm down and think for a bit and she'll come back when she's ready, 98.23 percent of the time it's after sixteen minutes. If I chase her, it just makes it worse."

"Are you two going to be ok?" J.J. asked.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, we'll be fine as long as I give her sixteen minutes."

"Sixteen minutes, huh?" Rossi chuckled. "I wish all I had to do was give my ex's sixteen minutes." The agents laughed at Rossi's rueful face and Rossi shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"That's really all it takes?" Morgan asked, his brow raised. "Sixteen minutes and the fights over?"

"Ha! I don't get off that easy. It just that Calliope runs on emotional extremes – hot or cold. There is no middle ground with her. So she needs time to seethe and foam and be angry before she's ready to talk about anything."

"Sounds exhausting," Emily said, shaking her head as she put a casserole bowl of green beans into the microwave and turned it on.

"It's not. It's just her," Spencer smiled as took an overzealous bite of one of the rolls from the basket J.J. had put on the table. "'Ank 'ou," he mumbled around a mouthful of bread.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, String Bean. It's rude."

Spencer smiled as his makeshift family looked at their watches or the kitchen clock. He didn't have to look – he knew sixteen minutes had passed as she walked towards him and perched herself on his good leg, pressing her forehead to his.

"We'll talk about this later," she whispered.

"Do I have to sleep on the porch?"

Calliope laughed and kissed him, "No, goof. You don't have to sleep on the porch."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The hum of the dishwasher was drowned out by the laughter that ricocheted around the house.

"… and the canister hit her right in the forehead."

"It hurt too!"

"She's all 'what the hell was that?'!"

"Ha! Yeah and you just went 'Don't you recognize a rocket when you see one?'" Emily tossed an M&M at Penelope and Morgan laughed as he caught it after it bounced off her cheek, popping it in his mouth.

"And instead of getting mad, Emily just goes 'Ohh! Show me!' and Spence shot off another one that landed right at Hotchs' feet."

"Physics magic? Reid, I thought we talked about this," Penelope said in her best Aaron Hotchner impression.

"You're really starting to get some distance on those," Emily continued, laughing so hard her impression sounded nothing like Hotch.

Calliope was sitting cross-legged and leaning backwards on her elbows, shaking with silent laughter, her crazy hair falling into her eyes. Gasping for breath, she pushed herself up.

"God, that's hilarious."

"Why have I never heard this story?" Rossi asked, shaking his head and taking another long sip of wine.

"It never came up? Anyone have a Hotch story?" Emily smiled.

"And on that note, I think it's time for me to head out," Hotch said, giving the first smile, real or faked, that any of them had seen in a very long time. "I've got an early doctors appointment tomorrow morning."

"Oh wow… It's eleven o'clock." J.J. said, standing up along with Hotch. "I'm surprised Will hasn't called, I told him I'd be home over an hour ago."

"And since I'm riding with her, I guess that's my queue as well."

The party stood and Calliope handed Spencer his crutches as he pushed himself up out of the chair.

"Calliope…" Penelope tottered a bit as she stood up. "I don't think I should be driving." Everyone chuckled as Morgan caught her before she stumbled over.

"I'll get the guest bedroom set up, Pen. Don't worry."

"That would be good," Penelope hiccupped a bit and hung on to Morgan.

Emily, J.J., Rossi and Hotch exchanged goodbyes and filed out to their cars, waving goodbye to their four friends standing on the porch.

"Ok, Angel Lips, let's get you back inside, shall we? Hey Cal?" Morgan waited until Spencer and Penelope were back inside before finishing, "Do you mind if I stay too?"

"Too much to drink?" Calliope smiled.

"Naw. I just wanna stay close to Reid. I dunno… I'm just worried about him. I mean, I know you're here and all, but it'd –"

"It'd make you feel better."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"No! Spencer! Help me! Spencer!"

Derek jolted upright and threw the covers off as grabbed the gun he'd left on the nightstand out of habit, the sleep he had been slipping into gone instantly. He held the gun out in front of him as he quickly threw open the door and jerked back seeing Penelope standing in front of him.

"Get behind me, García. Don't talk."

"Leave me alone! Stop it! Spencer, help!"

Hurrying quietly down the hall, Derek kept looking around worrying for his friends and wondering why this sort of shit happened to him even when he wasn't at work.

He stopped at the door the screams were coming from and held an arm out to stop Penelope. "Stay here."

"Calliope's screaming and you're telling me to stay here? What if there's someone else –"

"Baby Girl, you have to be quite. And stay here, back to the wall," Derek threw the frightened blonde a fierce look that immediately quieted her protests as she let go of the back of his shirt. Carefully, he gripped the doorknob and threw it open, gun raised, ready.

"Put the gun down." Spencer commanded, shielding his eyes from the light of Derek's flashlight.

"What the hell's going on?" Derek said, completely confused as he took in the sight in front of him, putting the gun on the bookshelf.

"Night terror," Spencer said as he tried to grab Calliope's thrashing hands.

"Make it stop, Spencer! Make it stop," she was sobbing now, her eyes wide open and staring.

"I'm trying, Sweetheart, I'm trying," Spencer said, soothing her hair back, still trying to grab the flailing limbs. "Shit!" Calliopes' fist collided with his cheekbone and then with his nose.

"What the hell? Cal, stop it! It's just Reid." Derek hollered, he and Penelope moving closer to the bed.

"Don't yell. You'll scare her. She's not awake, Morgan."

"But her eyes…" Penelope's voice was small and she couldn't stop staring.

"I know, but she's asleep. She's asleep, she doesn't recognize anyone, she's inconsolable and this will last anywhere from five more minutes to thirty more so I could really use some help because this damn leg is making any movement pretty much impossible."

"Lights?"

"No. Morgan, get over here and hold her."

"What? No, she's your –"

"Morgan, I physically _can't_ hold her right now. I can't move fast enough to get her and she keeps kicking my leg. If you don't hold her she's going to hurt herself or me, but mostly herself."

"Are you sure about this?" Derek asked, visibly freaked out, as he sat down on the edge of the bed and tentatively gathered her in his arms. She continued to thrash and cry as Derek held her arms to her side. Spencer rolled over and grabbed a tissue, holding it to his nose and blotting the blood.

"Reid, that's going on?"

Spencer looked up at Penelope and sighed. "Dr. Seller's said she's been having night terrors. I just didn't know they were this bad. She only came home this morning."

"Why won't she wake up?"

"No one really knows why subjects can't wake up. They just appear to be awake but aren't really aware anyone's around them and, if they do realize someone's there, they don't recognize them and their distress increases. Night terrors can produce a heightened heart rate between 160 beats per minute to 170. She's supposed to be around seventy or eighty. You're usually not supposed to force physical contact like this, but I'm afraid she'd hurt herself." Spencer got a new tissue and quickly exchanged it with the one he was currently holding to his nose.

"She's not going to remember anything in the morning," Spencer told them. "It's possible she'll remember she had a night terror, but that's unlikely and, on the off chance she does remember, she's not going to remember what it was about."

"This just feels wrong, Reid. I really don't think she'd like me touching her like this." Derek was still holding onto the flailing woman as she whimpered and cried, trying to break out of the iron grip he had on her.

"She'd like it more than having a concussion because she threw herself out of bed," Penelope said before Reid could say anything.

No one spoke after that, the only noises coming from Calliope as she slowly calmed down, slipping back into a peaceful sleep. When she was finally still again, Derek ease her down onto the bed where she immediately sought out Spencer and curled next to him.

Derek and Penelope were slowly backing out of the room as Spencer tucked her hair away from her face and cuddled her close.

"It's over, right?" Derek asked as he picked up his gun.

"Only once in a night – during the fourth stage of sleep. She's in REM right now and the window for night terrors is over. Morgan? Thanks."

Derek turned back and smiled weakly as he looked in his friends exhausted eyes. "It's what brothers are for, right? Helping, being strong when the other's not.. Family takes care of family. As far as I'm concerned, she's more then earned her spot in this family."

Spencer yawned as the door closed and he kissed his muses' sweaty forehead, finally letting fatigue take over.

"That's what brothers are for…"

* * *

**A/N:**

**a;sdkfjna;djksf;adfksmakdsf;adjnsfakjfa;dsfjkna;sdjkvad;fgdfjk**

**Ok, all better now. So I hope, hope, HOPE you like it!**

**Anyone who got the Disney reference, thank you. =]**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you like it! Reviews make my day epic (thank you to everyone who has!) and so please tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**

**Oh! P.S. Christmas Embers, the Christmas short is up and readable! =D**

**For serious now... Love, Thalia**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

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"_Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us." – Marianne Williamson_

o o o o

26 May, 2009

He assumed the chair he was sitting on had been comfortable at some point in its lifetime, but it certainly wasn't anymore. It would be surprising if any of the stuffing was still fighting for life within the faded plaid exterior and the coils stuck out against his back with no stuffing to cushion them. Shifting slightly, trying to find a more agreeable spot, but none was to be found and he wasn't a man prone to squirming.

"Good morning, Aaron. How are you doing today?"

Hotch stood and shook the hand he was offered.

"Sorry I'm late – I accidently spilt my coffee on myself and had to change into my spare shirt! Come on back and we'll get down to business."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer carefully wrote out Gideon's name at the top of the sheet of paper – he always had to be careful when he wrote to Gideon or his handwriting would get progressively worse as he wrote faster, trying to tell his mentor everything he could only really say to him.

They usually spoke over the phone, Spencer and Gideon, but all the times he tried to tell Gideon about Calliope he faltered, he always copped out. He'd been with her for nine months and he'd talked to Gideon on the phone several times since then, but he always came up with an excuse to avoid telling him. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help but think that telling Gideon about Calliope and the dream he'd been living in since meeting her would open everything up to possibility of having it taken away.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Holding her breath, she dropped a particularly heinous smelling diaper in the trashcan before picking up a bottle of talcum powder. With practiced ease, J.J. replaced the diaper and scooped up Henry.

"Hey there, Big Guy. What do you wanna do today? A walk in the park? I was thinking that too! Maybe we can convince Daddy to come with us. Do you think he'd want to do that? You do? I think so too. He's pretty easy to convince."

J.J. carried Henry out of the nursery and saw Will reading the newspaper on the couch. Sitting next to him, she leaned against his side, cuddling Henry. Will slipped his arm behind her head and kissed her.

"Hey, Pretty Girl."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Running was the usual way Derek relaxed. He'd drive over to Prince William Forest Park a few minutes out of Quantico, jog the eleven and a half miles that made up the trail surrounding the park and sweat out everything that was bothering him. He used to jog on the FBI track, but the trail was more calming, it was easier to relax out here away from the stress.

But not even running was working today. He stopped and wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt. He was familiar enough with the scenery that he figured he was roughly seven miles in and he could only go forward. He didn't like that his mind wasn't clearing the way it usually did when he ran this trail. He didn't like that he couldn't get Calliope's screams to stop echoing in his ears.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"It's been 13 days since Hayley and Jack went into protective custody with the Marshalls. It's been hard. I usually talk to Jack every couple of days but now I can't talk to him or Haley. It's been… difficult."

"You still love your ex-wife, Aaron." The sentence was a statement, not a question as Dr. Peterson wrote on his clipboard.

"Yes. Haley was the one that wanted the divorce, because of my job. I understood, understand, but I it's not what I wanted. Foyet knows that and he's using it to his advantage."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

After pulling the cookie sheets out of the oven, she closed the door with her foot and placed the sheets on the cooling rack. She was still a bit buzzed from the night before, but she was almost completely back to normal.

Penelope couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much to drink, but last night had been exactly what the entire team had needed, herself included. A night of uncomplicated laughter and frivolity had been a more than welcome reprieve from the stress and terror George Foyet had layered over their lives.

She loved her team – they were her family. The seven of them formed a slightly dysfunctional and untraditional, but loving family that consistently protected each other from and helped each other through the horrors they saw each day. And now Foyet had targeted Hotch through Haley and Jack, but he had targeted their entire team, her family, by targeting Hotch. How were they supposed to protect each other from this?

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Focusing on the overly impractical romance novel she was reading was difficult, but not completely impossible. She'd managed to stave off a lot of the uninvited, impending thoughts while immersing herself in the fictional world of seventeenth century high society England and soaking in a bubble bath.

Dropping the book on the tile besides the tub, Emily leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She sucked in a large breath and reached for her cell phone. Flipping it open, she found the number in her contacts before holding it to her ear and waiting for the call to be answered.

"Hey, Mom. It's me – Emily."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Go on, Mugsy, get it. Get it, boy, get it. Good dog, Mugsy." Dave took the rabbit from the dogs' mouth and scratched him behind the ear.

"You've got yourself one helluva dog there, Dave." Ryan Cohen lowered his rifle and watched Mugsy run after the rabbit he had just hit. "You've been off your game today. I don't think I've ever seen you miss as many shots as you have today. What's eating you?"

Dave took the rabbit from Mugsy and put it in the cooler with the others. "It's this case we're working on. It's so personal; I'm not used to it. It won't leave me alone."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Hey Mama," Derek answered his phone as he slipped into his car. "What? Oh yeah. I was out running. I know, I know: I'm always supposed to pick up for you. I didn't hear the phone. Sorry, Mama."

"So how are you doing, Baby Boy?"

"I'm doing alright, considering everything that's going on. Spent last night out in Fredericksburg with Reid and his girlfriend, Cal. I told you about her, right?"

"Yes, you did. When'd you find Dr. Reid? Is he ok?"

"Oh yeah, Reid's fine. He'd been hiding out at Cal's house just waiting for her to come home."

"Ok, good. Now, most importantly, how's my baby?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

He was about halfway through his letter when the vibrating of his phone made him jump and blot ink over the sentence he was working on. Sighing, he pushed the paper away and reached across the desk for the offending noisemaker. He couldn't help but laugh when he saw who was calling.

"Hello, Gideon," he answered.

"I heard about your leg. You doing ok, kid?"

"Yeah. The bullet went clean through. I'll be on crutches for several months and probably a cane for a bit, but the doctor said I'll be fine in the end. Hey, um, do you have some time? I've got some stuff to tell you."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Hitting the pause button on the remote, Penelope pushed herself off the couch and stalked towards the door, mumbling about people who interrupt while she's watching movies. She was ready to pounce on whoever was outside but, when she opened the door, all she did was smile.

"Well, hello there, Hot Stuff."

"Hey, Angel. I'm not intruding, am I?" Derek asked as he walked into the colourful apartment.

"Nope, just watching a movie. Grab a soda and come join."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Are you thinking about leaving?" Ryan scowled as the jackrabbit evaded his shot.

"No. When I came back I thought this would just be a short-term gig, but now I wouldn't leave. I don't want to be retired again." Mugsy ran after the rabbit as it fell and Dave turned to Ryan. When the dog returned, Dave took the rabbit from Mugsys' mouth and tossed it in the cooler.

"I figured that would be how it worked out. Ya think we have enough?" Ryan looked in the cooler and took a sip of his beer.

"Oh yeah. Ready to head out?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

J.J. pushed the stroller in front of them as Will told her about the movie he wanted to take her to see.

"It's the new Pixar movie. It comes out in three days. It's called Up. It's about this old man who flies his house to some wilderness place using balloons."

"You want to take me to a children's movie?"

"Don't even try and pretend you don't have every single Pixar movie ever made. I've seen the little black case with all of them hidden away."

"I'd love to go," she smiled, stopping and giving him a kiss before continuing on their walk. "And they go to Paradise Falls in South America."

"Ha! I knew you wanted to see it. I bet we can get Reid and his girl to take Henry for a couple of hours."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Yeah, I remember that! That was so funny. I can't believe that you have a picture of that! You have to email me a copy. Ugh, oh man, Mom, that just made my day." Giggling to herself, Emily took a sip of her glass of wine and slid a little lower in the water. "Thanks for talking to me, Mom. I really needed someone to talk to."

"I know we don't always get along, Emily, but I'm still your mother and I'm always here if you need me."

"I know, Mom. I just needed a reminder. It's been a rough couple of months."

"Tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Foyet is smart and he's almost always three steps ahead of us. I can't help but worry that we won't be able to catch him. I keep telling myself I can't think that way, but it's because of him that Haley and Jack are in protective custody, that I can't see them. If we can't catch him…"

"Aaron, there are a lot of 'ifs' in this world. Right now, you should focus on what you can control. You and your team are doing everything you can to find and capture Foyet." Dr. Peterson fished in his pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to Hotch.

"Here. I think you should have this."

"Whose card is it?"

"Nobodies. It's a quote by Marianne Williamson that's helped me through a lot. 'Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us."

Nodding, Hotch tucked it in his wallet and thanked him.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"That does sound stressful, Emmy. Are you sure you're safe?"

"Yeah, Foyet's not after me. It's Hotch, Hayley and Jack who are in danger. I'm scared I won't be able to help or that something I do will result in catastrophe. The fear is like… I dunno… it's paralyzing."

"Do you remember what I used to tell you when you were in grade school and you were afraid you couldn't do something?"

"It was a quote. I remember, you painted it over my desk so I could see it when I started to give up on something."

"'Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us.'"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"How many times have we watched X-Men together?"

"More times than I can count," Penelope laughed, resting her feet on his lap.

"What am I? Your footstool?" Derek rolled his eyes and shoved another cookie in his mouth before rubbing the soles of her feet.

"Does this job ever get to you?"

"Sometimes. Especially now with what Foyet's doing. Lately, I've been worrying that I'm not good enough to help capture Foyet."

"Oh, Derek, you're plenty good. I don't know anyone as good as you."

"Heh, thanks, Penelope. You know, I was talking to Mama today and she told me a quote that I really like. She said, 'Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.' Marianne Williamson said it."

"I like that."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"That's something my daddy used to say to me when I wanted to throw in the towel over a case. Mary something-or-other said it. I can't remember. But I think it's a pretty good quote for what you're going through with Foyet."

Giving Henry his bottle, J.J. smiled at Will. "Thanks. I needed that. I needed some reassurance that we can catch him."

"You will. You always do."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Dave folded up the second chair and tucked it into the back of the SUV next to the cooler full of jackrabbits.

"We got everything, Ryan?"

"I think so. Hey, I've been thinking about what you said, about worrying about Foyet and what he'll do if you can't catch him."

"So have I."

"My, uh, my Uncle Morty… when I was writing my dissertation and trying to decide if I wanted to go to rabbinic school, he would send me postcards from random cities around where he lived. They always had the same message written on the back. It was a quote my Marianne Williamson and, to this day, I have a poster-sized frame with all those postcards hanging in my office to remind me."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer pocketed his phone after he hung up with his mentor and stretched. He folded up the paper and tossed it into the trash before standing up awkwardly and positioning the crutches. The crutches were getting annoying, but he couldn't move without them and his knee was sending jolts of pain up his leg if he moved it an inch.

Hobbling painfully into the living room, he couldn't help but smile when he saw Calliope sitting sideways in the club chair with her legs hanging over its arm. She had a sketchpad leaning against her legs and her face was screwed up in concentration as the pencil she held flew across the page.

"Hey, Sweetheart."

"Sec, Spencer." Calliope didn't look away from the paper, simply continued to sketch. Brenda Sellers had told Spencer once, at the New Years Eve ball when he met the old woman, that Calliope was at her most beautiful when she was painting. This wasn't quite painting, but it was very close.

He waited until she looked up at him and smiled before he moved towards her. Standing up, she put the sketchpad on the coffee table and practically skipped to where he stood, wrapping her arms around his waist. Spencer smiled and let go of one of the crutches to awkwardly hug her with his left arm.

Pulling back a bit, she tilted her head back and smiled at him. "I ordered Chinese for dinner. I hope that's ok."

"As long as you don't make fun of me for using a fork," he grinned, leaning down and kissing her, dropping the left crutch in the process. He cursed as Calliope steadied him and helped him over to the couch before picking up the fallen crutch.

"You keep wincing really badly. Do you want some aspirin? No Tylenol 3, I know, just some regular Advil or Ibuprofen. It's time for you to take the anti-inflammatory anyways."

"Actually, that'd be really good, Thanks." He downed the pills she gave him when she returned and closed his eyes, leaning his head back. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she sat down and leaned against him. "Love you," he murmured, kissing her temple.

"Mmmm, I love you too."

Neither one of them said anything or moved until the doorbell rang and Calliope got up to retrieve and pay for the Chinese take out. She put the bag on the table, but didn't open it. Instead, she returned to the couch and cuddled against him again.

"You know you're safe, right?"

"What?" Calliope looked up at him again, confusion plain on her face.

"Everything that's going on with Foyet. You're safe. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He tucked a lock of lime green hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. "I'll always protect you."

"I know, String Bean. I know." Pulling his head down to hers, she kissed him, smiling. "So protective, Dr. Reid."

"I can't let anything happen to you. I won't. Foyet will never lay a hand on you."

"Spencer, nothing's going to happen to me. You and the team will find him, get Haley and Jack out of custody, and Foyet will go away forever."

"I hope you're right."

Kissing him again, she grinned, "I'm always right."

"Of course," he teased. "Can I see what you're working on?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure." Calliope picked up the sketchpad, but held it close to her chest. "No making fun."

"Why would I make fun?"

"Promise!"

"Ok, ok. Promise."

Calliope handed him the sketchpad and Spencer fell silent as he took in the drawing. Biting her bottom lip, she watched his face, trying to gauge his reaction, but couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"You don't like it?"

"No, I love it. It's amazing."

"You don't have to protect my feelings, Spencer."

"I'm not." Spencer continued looking at the faces of his friends, their smiles captured on the paper. "Rossi, Morgan, García, J.J., Hotch, Emily, and me…" he traced his finger over the faces as he named each one off.

"I wanted to capture last night. You all laugh together so infrequently." Calliope leaned back against his side and let her eyes flutter closed when he started to absentmindedly run his fingers through her curls.

"'Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us.'" Spencer traced the letters. The words started above the seven sketched busts and the last sentence continued underneath. She couldn't possibly have known that Gideon had said those exact words to him less than an hour ago. "Where'd you get that quote?"

"My mom used to keep journals of quotes and fables she liked. This was in one. I saw it this morning and I liked it. And, thus, that sketch was born. I want to paint it later, but I need to buy a canvas and some new paints. I'm out of blue and white."

"Maybe we can go get them tomorrow."

"That'd be nice, but I don't want you to stress your leg. C'mon. My stomach's growling. Let's eat." She helped him off the couch and got him steady on his crutches before heading into the kitchen and opening the bag of steaming food. "Maybe we can play a game of Scrabble. I haven't whooped your butt in a while."

"That's because I won the last three games we played, Sweetheart."

"I refuse to admit defeat, Dr. Reid! Plus, that last game was by one measly, freaking, stupid point…"

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**A/N:**

**Ok, so I'm intensely sorry that this update took so long. It was a combination of being busy and just having a difficult time writing this chapter. I knew what I wanted it to be, but I tend to have trouble writing Rossi, Emily and J.J. (except when she's with Reid) and I don't know why. =/**

**Anywho, I really, really hope you like it!**

**There's a new Mystery Muse Short called "307th New Years Eve Ball" up. It's about Calliope taking Spencer to Dahlia for New Years to meet her friends and family and chaos ensues. I do love my chaos. Reading it will definitely add to the story, much like Christmas Embers, but not reading it won't detract from Mystery Muse.**

**Thanks so much for reading and please tell me what you think, good or bad, because reviews make Thalia oh so happy. =)**

**Love, Thalia**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

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"_Patience is waiting. Not passively waiting. That is laziness. But to keep going when the going is hard and slow – that is patience." – Unknown_

o o o o

12, June 2009

The air had a funny burnt smell to it when Spencer and Derek walked into through the front door into the house. Spencer tossed his keys onto the table across from the door and typed in the alarm code to deactivate it while Derek flipped on the light.

"Calliope?" After a month on crutches, Spencer had developed a competency, if not a skill, for moving around on them and he moved into the hallway towards the main area of the house.

"Reid, something's on fire." Derek came up behind him and almost knocked him over as he brushed past him.

"Check the kitchen. Specifically the oven."

"The oven?" Derek called from ahead of him.

"Yeah. She keeps forgetting after she puts something in the oven. PTSD. She was formally diagnosed yesterday. PTSD patients need to have the symptoms for at least a month before the doctors will make the official diagnosis. It's been obvious for a while though. I reread some stuff on posttraumatic stress disorder just to make sure I was right. I wish I wasn't."

"You were right the oven too, Reid. There's some charred something in here. No fire though. Just whatever this used to be." Spencer rounded the corner as Derek was putting the blackened roasting pan on top of the stove and turning on the vents. "Where's Cal?"

"Either the bedroom or her painting room."

"I'm going to go say hi."

"Ok. Try not to startle her." Spencer sighed when he saw Calliope's latest victim. She wasn't getting any better; if anything, her posttraumatic stress disorder kept getting progressively worse as they got farther and farther from May thirteenth. Sometimes, when he was at his most discouraged, he couldn't stop the small voice that whispered she might never get better, that he'd lost his Calliope the minute she'd past the Barton house and seen him shot, that she'd never again be the woman he'd fallen in love with. When that voice came, it took everything in him to push it again and say that, no, Calliope wasn't gone. She was sick and she was hurting, but his muse was still buried in there trying to work through everything and heal and, when she was ready, she'd come back to him. He just had to be patient with her. Just had to wait.

He dropped the mail he was sorting through when he heard Calliope scream, a heavy smashing, and a pained groan he knew didn't came from Calliope. He rubbed his eyes before turning around and following the sounds of Calliope apologizing profusely. Entering the painting room, he saw Calliope kneeling next to Derek who was clutching his shoulder where he was sprawled next to a large dent in the hardwood floor. He had to rub his eyes again when he saw Calliopes' weapon of choice – an unopened gallon of pastel blue paint that was now leaking from the cracked seams of the metal can.

"You threw a gallon of paint at Morgan?"

"He scared me! I didn't mean to. I was carrying it when he startled me. I didn't mean to. I'm really, really sorry, D. I'll pay for whatever I broke. I mean, medical bills. I'm really, really sorry."

"Cal, calm down. It's ok." Derek was sitting up now and rubbing his shoulder, checking movement. "I don't think you broke anything. Just gonna be sore as hell later."

"I'm so sorry, D. I'm really, really sorry."

"Come here, Sweetheart," Spencer said, holding out his arm. When she was in his arms, he kissed her forehead and murmured soothingly against her hair. "It's ok, Sweetheart. You're ok. Everything's fine. Morgan's ok and I'm ok and you're ok. Nothing's going to happen to anyone. Shhhh…"

Calliope stopped sniffling and wiped her eyes before squeezing Spencer tightly before moving out of his embrace. Standing up, Derek rolled his shoulder one last time before pronouncing himself all right and giving Calliope a hug.

"Do you remember what you were cooking, Calliope?" Spencer asked, watching her as she sopped up the leaking paint with a rag and put the damaged can in the trash.

"Cooking? I wasn't cooking anything. Why?"

Spencer hit Derek in the shin with his crutch when he opened his mouth to protest and shook his head, silently telling his friend not to mention the unidentified food substance burning in the oven.

"Oh, my mistake. I'll order dinner, ok? Go back to painting, Sweetheart."

Derek followed Spencer out of the room and back into the kitchen where Spencer turned on his laptop and submitted an order for pizza.

"Reid, what is going on? Who the hell was that? That was not Cal. Cal does not throw gallons of paint at people who scare her."

"I told you not to startle her."

"I didn't think I was, Reid. The door was open, I knocked on the frame, said 'Hey there, Little Lady. Whatchya up to?' and was greeted by a scream and a can of paint. Explain to me what's going on, Reid."

"Let's go outside. I don't want her to hear."

Derek followed Spencer out onto the patio and sat on the wicker couch looking out over Calliopes' once perfect garden. He waited until Spencer had gotten himself into the chair across from him before saying anything.

"I thought she was getting better. I thought the Xanax was working."

"Xanax isn't a 'fix-it' pill, Morgan. It's, um, it's a minor tranquilizer. Calliope isn't taking Xanax anymore. PTSD patients are often given that or a similar medication in the beginning to help with the most severe physical symptoms, but it's incredible habit forming, so they take them off of it as soon as they can. She hasn't taken Xanax in three weeks. Dr. Michaels switched her to Lexapro right now. Only ten milligrams a day and Dr. Michaels is planning to wean her off of it in a few months."

"Ok, so what's going on? I don't understand. You said she was officially diagnosed with PTSD. What does that mean? Explain it to me."

"To be diagnosed with posttraumatic stress disorder, patients have to have persistent symptoms for a months. Until then it's considered ASD – acute stress disorder. Re-experiencing symptoms, hyper-arousal symptoms and avoidance and numbing symptoms."

"English, Reid."

"She needs one re-experiencing symptoms. She's having the night terrors, which you saw. Hyper-arousal symptoms – patients need two and Calliope has four. She can't concentrate, has been having black-outs, can't remember things like when she's started cooking, and extremely exaggerated responses to being startled or scared."

"I guess that explains the paint."

"Yup. I've been accosted by fourteen cups of coffee, crochet, TV remotes, a sandwich, nine paint brushes, two books, and a frying pan."

"A frying pan?"

"Yeah, that one hurt."

"Is that what caused the black eye?"

"Yeah. The handle." Spencer smirked and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "It's almost gone, though."

"Yup. So, is that everything that's wrong? I mean, is there anything else?"

"No, there's more. Three avoidance or numbing symptoms; she has six. She refuses to drive."

"Well, considering what happened the last time she drove, that doesn't surprise me."

"She doesn't listen to music, doesn't read, hasn't gone riding at all. Poor Esthers' really confused. She can't remember things about what happened. She can't remember that she held a sweater to my leg, she says she used her hands. She can't remember the ambulance ride from Bartons' house and she can't remember my, uh, to quote García, 'freak out' at that EMT. I should really send that woman an apology, shouldn't I?"

"That's five. You said six."

"She, um, she keeps trying to initiate sex."

"What? Why is that bad? Isn't that just her wanting to get back to normal life? You know, wanting to move past everything."

"No, it's not." Spencer was blushing and not looking at his friend, instead concentrated on the deer standing at the edge of the property. "We haven't had sex. This is a manifestation of PTSD – a sense that she… that… foreshortened future, thinking she's going to die soon. Not expecting a normal life span or to get married or have children. That sort of thing."

"You mean she's suicidal?"

"No, no. It's relatively common in PTSD."

"Is she going to be ok?"

"I… I don't know. I hope so. I'm trying to stay positive, but it's hard."

"How are you, kid? I mean, we've been talking about Cal, but this can't be easy for you. You need to talk?"

"I've been talking. I've been seeing Dr. Michaels too."

"You're seeing a shrink?"

"According to Strauss, it was either that or be put on medical suspension. Apparently, having your girlfriend present at a crime scene when you're shot in the leg and then screaming at medics isn't a good thing."

The two men chuckled before Derek stopped and stared at his best friend.

"Wait a second, you two have been together for, like, a year. You're practically living with her and you haven't slept with her?"

"There are things more important than sex, Morgan." Spencer said, turning red with embarrassment and not looking at him. "Especially now."

"I don't know what to say, Reid. But you must be doing something right. A year in this field is like a lifetime in any other profession."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Hotch slipped his key into the mailbox and pulled out its' contents before closing it again and continuing on to his apartment. Sorting through the mail as he walked, he weeded out some junk mail and sighed at the bills before he got to his door. He opened the only hand-addressed envelope as he locked the door behind him. As he was walking to his desk, he stilled and read the letter, completely engrossed.

He didn't move as he read and, when he finished, he reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, dialing quickly.

"Dave. It's Aaron. We have a problem."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Calliope? You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Spencer. I'll be right there."

"Mmkay." Spencer picked up the book off the bedside table and opened it up to where his bookmark was. He didn't look up from the pages when she came out of the bathroom until she cleared her throat expectantly. Looking up, he had to quickly close his eyes against the image of her in burgundy lingerie. She was gorgeous and a month ago Spencer would have been out of bed in a second to kiss and touch her, but now everything was different, everything was wrong.

"Cal-Calliope, please, put on some clothes, Sweetheart."

"You don't like what I'm wearing, Spencer?" Calliope asked as she climbed onto the bed and took his book from him.

"You know I do." Spencer told her, still not opening his eyes as Calliope kissed his neck and started to unbutton his shirt. "Calliope, please –" His protest was cut short was she kissed him and he lost his train of thought, returning the kiss with the same passion she showed him. Unable to remember any reasons why he shouldn't be doing this, he splayed his hand across the small of her back, tangling his other in her long hair and pulling her closer against him.

It took several minutes before Spencer regained his ability to think of something besides the woman in his arms, but, when he did, reality hit him painfully hard. He pulled away as best he could and held her at a distance.

"Calliope, stop."

"Why? Why should I stop?"

"Because you know this isn't what you want."

"Yes, it is. I want you, Spencer."

"Sweetheart, please. I love you. Do you love me?"

"You know I do."

"Then stop and go put on your pajamas, Sweetheart."

"Why? Why can't you just let me –"

"Because this isn't what you want, Calliope, and if we do this, you'll regret it later. I won't let you do this because I love you and I don't want you to regret anything about us."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

_You should have made a deal._

_My biggest decision now is whom should I go after when I'm done with you?_

_There are just so many choices._

_How about the beautiful Ms. Jennifer Jareau? Oh, she would be fun. A little bouncing baby boy. Named Henry if I'm not mistaken. And that boyfriend of hers as well – the devoted William LaMontagne, Jr. Take out the boyfriend first and then go after her bundle of joy. Easy. LaMontagne takes little Henry for a walk every single day. Picking them off would be easy._

_Or I could start with shy Dr. Spencer Reid. Rumor has it he's finally found himself a girlfriend in the fabulously wealthy Calliope Sellers. How he managed to land such a fantastic prize is what I'm wondering. Kill his mother first, she's a sitting duck in that institution he left her in, father next – I heard a rumor that they're just finally reconciling… Oh well. Then, with the parents out of the way, I'll pull the plug on his little girlfriend._

_Emily Prentiss would be simple, almost boring. She has so few real connections in her life. I could start with John Cooley. They may not be close, but he did get her pregnant, you know. Or maybe I'll start with her mother. She's stationed in New York right now. A simple train ride and she'd be in my hands._

_Taking out Derek Morgan proved easy before. Maybe I'll use his credentials a bit more – it really helped out in the hospital. You can get almost anything you want when you flash that badge. I'll start with his niece and nephew. Then his sisters and lastly his mother. I know how much he loves her. Maybe losing everything will finally make him admit how much he loves Penelope García._

_Figuring out how to best target David Rossi was difficult at first but eventually I stumbled upon something most interesting. Connie, George, and Alicia Galen. He took care of their house for twenty years after their parents were murdered by that stupid oaf. And then he even gave the house back to them for nothing. I think it's about time they were reunited with their parents – and they'll have David Rossi to thank for it._

_And lastly, Penelope García. She'll be the most fun. You and your team are her family. So, but slowly killing off and torturing all of you, I'll be crushing her in the worst way possible. Even with her technical ability, she'll never be able to trace me as I pick the rest of you off one by one. By the time I'm done, she'll be begging me to kill her too._

_You should have made a deal._

_Do you believe me yet?_

_

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_

A/N:

**DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNNNNNN...**

**Ok, now that I got that out of my system... Sorry for taking so long! I got insanely sick and was completely miserable for a little over a week and then I took the time to finish the long overdue New Years one-shot and THEN I had to pack and travel back up to Uni. Sooooooo, yeah. But Chapter 13's up now, obviously because you just finished reading it!**

**On another note - spring semester starts up tomorrow, so I'm going to try my best to do an update a week and, if I miss a week, I'm really sorry, but my grades (unfortunately) have to come before my obsession with Criminal Minds, Reid and this fanfictional world I've been quite happily living in over winter break.**

**Thank you so much for reading! I sincerely love every one of who who have commented on this story, added it/me to your favorites and put Mystery Muse/Thalia on alerts. It has really made me so happy knowing that people appreciate my writing and everything I put into these stories. So please, continue to tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

**

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**

"_Guilt is the source of sorrow, 'tis the fiend, Th' avenging fiend, that follows us behind, with whips and stings." – Nicholas Rowe_

o o o o

13, June 2009

Spencer woke up to the ringtone of his cell phone. At first he wasn't even sure it was his phone until he remembered that, before the current drama, Calliope had spent an afternoon quite happily playing with his phone, changing the ringtones and pictures. Her ability to be amused by the simplest things continually amazed him, but right now it was a bit annoying because he didn't know who was calling. Picking up the phone, he saw J.J.'s name on the caller ID and groaned as he flipped the phone open.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Spence. It's me."

"I know. Do we have a case?"

"Uh… not officially. It's kind of an unofficial emergency."

Spencer wiped a hand over his face and sighed before responding. "Ok, so what does that mean?"

"It means you need to get yourself to Hotch's apartment as soon as you can. Do you need someone to come to Fredericksburg to pick you up?"

"No, it's ok. I'll grab the train. It'd take too much time for one of you to drive out, pick me up and then drive back to Quantico."

"Ok, I'll see you soon."

"Wait, J.J. Is everything ok?"

"I really don't know, Spence. Hotch didn't tell me what's going on. All he said was that the team needed to get together to talk about something important and that it had to be done under the radar for the time being."

"All right. I'll be there soon." Hanging up, Spencer put the phone back in its place. He didn't want to get up; he didn't want to leave the precious woman who was currently sound asleep, contentedly sprawled half on top of him with her fingers tangled with his curly brown hair in their customary fashion. He knew he needed to get up, but instead he held her protectively and enjoyed the few moments where life felt real again. He knew the moment she woke up he'd be jerked from the pleasant normalcy a quiet morning in bed with her held and into the reality of their situation.

Resigning himself, he began the slow process of waking her without incurring a new black eye. Her nose scrunched as she fought to stay asleep, pulling the blanket over her head and mumbling something he couldn't understand.

"Wake up, sleepyhead," he said, laughing when she responded by pulling the blanket down, sticking her tongue out, and pulling it back up over her head. His heart swelled with happiness. She was acting like his Calliope. He didn't know how long she was going stay and he wanted to savor every minute he had with her, not rush away to talk about some undisclosed emergency.

Smiling, he ducked under the blanket with her and began prying her hands from over her face and laughed when she twisted away from his fingers.

"Nooooo… stop it, Spencer," She sounded pathetic and pitiful as she squirmed away from him. "Want to sleep.

"No! No! Mean! So mean!" Her squirming intensified as he began tickling her sides and she shrieked for him to stop. "I'm awake! I'm awake! Stop! It hurts, it hurts…"

Spencer couldn't stop smiling. Having his muse back for even the shortest amount of time was a welcome and much needed reminder she would eventually be healthy again. He stopped tickling her and pushed himself into a sitting position, hugging her tightly as she slipped back into his arms.

"You're so mean to me," she teased him as she stretched up to kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you too, Sweetheart."

"Spencer?"

"Hmmm?" He turned his head and looked down at her where she was snuggled against his side.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? You haven't done anything wrong, Calliope."

"For putting you through all of this."

"It's not your fault, Sweetheart."

"Spencer. I threw a frying pan at you. I nailed Derek with a gallon of paint."

"Sweetheart, you're sick. I understand and so does Morgan." Spencer kissed her forehead and smoothed her hair out of her eyes so he could look into her face and see something besides an untamable mane of colour. "There we go. I like seeing your face every once and a while."

"I don't deserve you. You're so patient with me. I don't want to think about how I would have reacted if you threw a frying pan at me. I doubt I'd be a patient as you're being with me if our roles were reversed. I'm sorry, Spencer."

"Calliope, don't be sorry. I'm the entire reason you're sick. If it weren't for me, this never would have happened and you'd be fine right now." Spencer muttered and, for the first time, Calliope realized how guilty he had been feeling over everything that had happened.

"No," Calliope said firmly. "This is nobody's fault. This is a result of a massive cosmic joke. Someone up there decided my life just hasn't been exciting enough and went 'Bahaha! Curveball!' I think it was Coyote. String Bean… Baby, look at me. No one, not even you, could have predicted this would happen. Wrong place, wrong time. That's all this is."

"If I had a normal job, it wouldn't have even been a possibility."

"Spencer… what are you saying?"

"Maybe it's time I got a normal job. Something that's less dangerous… I could teach at the FBI academy or at a university. I could easily get a position anywhere in math, physics or chemistry departments."

"Spencer Reid, stop talking crazy. You can't leave the Behavioral Analysis Unit; you can't leave your team. They need you and you need them. You love your job. You wouldn't be happy in a 'normal' job."

"My job's dangerous, Calliope. It was different before I met you. No one else was affected when something like this happened. But now what happens to me impacts you and I can't let you get hurt again. I love you too much to let you get hurt if I can do something to prevent it. Getting a safer job is something I can do to –"

"If you finish that sentence, I'm going to go find that frying pan and beat some sense into you."

"Calliope –"

"No! You aren't leaving the BAU. I will _not_ be the reason you quit the job you love."

"I love my job, but I love you more."

"Stop it, Spencer. You're being ridiculous. No one's making you choose between me and the BAU. That's a crazy requirement your guilt-ridden mind has imposed upon you. You need to get this through your thick skull, you stubborn moron: me being all screwed up? Not your fault. This mess is not your fault.

"Even if I'd never met you, this would still have happened because I still would have been on that street at that time to deliver that painting. The painting was ordered before I met you. I still would have seen and this still would have happened. It's not your fault."

"Sweetheart, my job –"

"That's it! I'm getting the frying pan." Calliope began untangling herself from the sheets and trying to get out of bed. "Spencer Reid, you are the most infuriating man I have ever met! And I have met a shitload of infuriating men in all the rich people events I've been to over twenty-six years. You take the cake from all those insufferable, egotistical narcissists. I swear to God, Spencer, you are…"

Laughing happily, Spencer pulled her back to him as she made to stand up, wincing a bit when she fell against him and jerked his knee. He soaked in the sound of her laughing as he kissed the side of her neck and her cheek, any part of her he could reach as she rested with her back against his chest and his arms easily encircling her.

"How can I love someone who annoys and irritates and exasperates me to the point of insanity as much as I love you?"

"For the same reason I do?"

Calliope giggled at his answer and twisted her head to kiss him.

"This feels nice. I've missed this."

"Me too, Sweetheart, me too."

"Spencer?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thank you. For stopping me last night. You're right – don't let that go to your head – but you're right. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Calliope. Don't worry. I won't let you do something you'll regret. You know that."

"I know. Thank you."

Spencer watched the clock as they spent the next hour talking and laughing as if life was normal again, feeling more and more guilty as the minutes put more time between him and when J.J. had called. Finally, an hour and a half after being awoken by the phone, he told Calliope the truth, that he had to go to Quantico and he'd be back as soon as he could.

"Why do you have to go? It's Saturday. It's supposed to be your day off."

"I don't know. J.J. just said it was an emergency. I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I'll be home soon, ok? Maybe we can watch a movie tonight."

"Good idea. Hey mister – I love you."

"I love you too, Sweetheart. Go get some breakfast, I'll say goodbye before I leave." He watched, unable to stop smiling, as she nodded and tumbled out of bed towards the kitchen.

By the time he followed Calliopes' path to the kitchen, thirty minutes had passed. Everything he did took longer now and the need to double the amount of time it took him to do something was a source of major frustration. He opened his mouth to say her name when she came into view, but closed it immediately. She was sitting at the counter staring off into space again the mug of coffee in her hands and the toast in front of her forgotten.

His muse was gone again.

Trying not to be too disappointed, Spencer walked into the kitchen instead of going over to her and filled a travel cup and a second mug with coffee. Carefully, he put the new mug in front of her and saw her eyes slip back into focus as he eased the cold coffee out of her hand.

"Hi," she said simply, still a bit dazed. "Oh, thank you, Spencer."

"You're welcome, Sweetheart. I'm going to go, ok? I have to get to Quantico. Are you going to be ok?"

"I'll be fine, Magic Man. You don't need to take care of me," she told him, hostility lacing her voice.

"I know. I'll be home later."

"Love you," she said, reaching out and taking his hand, her hostility dissipated as quickly as it appeared.

"Love you, too," he whispered, leaning over the counter to give her a quick kiss goodbye.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"There you are, Reid. What took so long?"

"Sorry I'm late. Calliope and I had a fight."

"Aww, Spence. I'm sorry. It's not my fault is it?" J.J. asked, apologetically.

"No, it wasn't your fault, J.J. And if it were I'd be thanking you, not asking for an apology. That was the best hour and a half since the accident." When Reid had finally managed to get into one of Hotchs' chairs he looked up and saw his team looking at him like he was crazy. "What?"

"You're happy about fighting?" Rossi asked from where he sat across the room.

"Yeah, I am," Reid nodded, not really sure if he wanted to divulge everything that had been going on. But his friends were staring at him expectantly, so he forged ahead. "It's the first time I've had her back since everything happened."

"Had her back?" Penelope asked, confused, and Spencer was grateful when Morgan stepped in and answered for him.

"Cal's not the same. She's not the girl you remember."

"Will she be alright?" Penelope looked from Morgan to Reid, concern evident on her face.

"Eventually." Reid told her, itching to change the subject. "She just needs time. So, what's the emergency?"

"The Reaper," Hotch began as he picked up a small stack of paper and handed them to the people gathered in his living room. "He sent me this letter. I got it yesterday. The original is in an evidence bag, but I haven't officially logged it yet. No one but George Foyet and the seven of us know this letter exists. I wanted to talk to you all before taking it to the Bureau."

"He's targeting everyone who means anything to us," Spencer said as he quickly read through the sheet Hotch had handed to the team.

"Oh my God," Emily whispered as she finished the letter.

There was a stunned silence as the team read through the letter as a second and third time. Slowly, one by one, each member of the team looked and stared at each other in disbelief.

"What should we… I mean, I…" J.J. started to speak and then stopped, unable to finish her thought as she twisted Wills' ring on her finger.

"Do we need to get them into protective custody?" Morgan asked.

"I don't think so. Not yet anyways," Rossi said.

"The Reaper won't double up his targets. He wants to enjoy torturing us one at a time. He's not going to move on to one of you until he's done with me and he won't be finished with me until either Haley, Jack and I are dead or he is."

"_He'll_ be dead," Morgan said forcefully. "Nothing is going to happen to you or your family or any of our families."

"We have to tell them though," Emily said, chewing on her bottom lip. "We can't _not_ tell them. That'd just be wrong. This isn't a mass targeting where it'd be better not to tell the public; these are specific people, people we love, and they deserve to know they're in danger."

"I agree," Rossi answered. "Not telling them would be negligent and dangerous. But how do we tell them? We don't want to scare them more than necessary."

"Scare them more than necessary? Rossi, he's killed thirty-four people, attempted Morgan and Roy Colson and attacked Hotch." Emily looked at him with disbelief.

"They're safe until he's done with me. What Foyet wanted when he sent this was to send all of us into a panic. He wants to watch as our families fear for their lives and run around afraid of everything."

"They're going to panic when we tell them, Hotch. No matter what we try to tell them about them being safe. As soon as they know The Boston Reaper has their name down on a hit list, they'll be living in complete terror until Foyet's killed." Morgan pointed out, his anger and worry apparent in his voice.

"How are we supposed to tell our families that they have to put their lives on hold because of a deranged murderer who likes to target federal agents who're working to catch him? That they have to look over their shoulders constantly because of _us_?" J.J.'s eyes were watery as she looked at her team for the answers none of them could give her.

"Well, he sure profiled me perfectly," Penelope muttered from where she sat next to Morgan. She gave the man a thank-you smile as she took the tissue he handed her and blew her nose. "I don't know if I can watch him do this."

"He's not gonna do anything, Baby Girl," Morgan told her, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "We're not going to let him. We're going to catch him before he hurts anyone else."

Reid listened absently to his friends talking about what to do as he read and re-read the letter, his mind racing a million miles an hour. Eventually, he shook himself in an attempt to clear his jumbled thinking and dropped his head into his hands.

"Any thoughts, Reid?" Rossi asked him when he realized the young genius had been silent throughout the entire discussion.

"Nothing helpful," Reid admitted.

"What's going on in that brilliant brain of yours, Spence?" J.J. asked, looking at her best friend with concern.

"I'm wondering how I'm supposed to tell my paranoid, schizophrenic mother that she's on a hit list, how I'm supposed to protect Calliope from an outside threat when she jumps and weaponizes whatever she's holding if I close the door too loudly, how I'm supposed to explain to Ben and Brenda Sellers that their only living grandchild is being targeted by a psychopath and suffering from severe PTSD because of the man who's supposed to protect and take care of her." Reid shoved himself up and grabbed his crutches. "I need to get out. I'll be back. I just need some air or something."

His teammates let him crutch himself out of the apartment and onto the balcony off the dining room. Penelope stood up on instinct to follow Reid, but Hotch shook his head as the youngest closed the door behind him.

"Give him a few minutes, García. He already harbors remorse about his mother and now he's feeling guilty about Calliope's condition. It's not surprising this addition has him overwhelmed. We need to give him some more time to digest."

"But… Ok, if you're sure," Penelope said, still looking unconvinced as she watched Reid limp back and forth on the patio.

"What are we going to do about protecting the people Foyet's targeted?"

"I'm sorry, Hotch. I can't let him pile on more guilt. I'm going to go talk to him." Penelope stood up and brushed past him out to the balcony, closing the door behind her. "Hey Reid."

"Hey García," he replied, offering her an exhausted smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"Completely drained. You?"

"Worried. Why don't we go get some coffee? Just the two of us. We haven't talked in a while."

"The team's waiting inside for me to get my head back."

"The meetings pretty much over. There's nothing more we can talk about until the letter's filed with the Bureau anyways. Plus, we all need some time to think. C'mon. Let's the coffee and talk."

"Ok. Sure."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Oh shit, what's happening now?! haha Sorry, I'm a smidge hyper. Thalia has had -way- too much caffeine today. :D**

**I really hope you like it! Thanks so much for reading and tell me what you think, good or bad!!**

**I'm off to have some more Diet Coke, become even more hyper, and start work on the Spencer/Calliope V-Day short!!**

**Love, Thalia.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Love is a choice you make from moment to moment." - Barbara de Angelis_

o o o o

13, June 2009

"Ok, kiddo. Spill your guts to Garcy. What's going on? And don't give me that bullshit about being 'fine.' I've known you long enough to know when you're fine and when you're not fine and, right now, you are definitely not fine." Penelope sat across from him in the secluded corner of the Starbucks. Pulling her knitting out of her oversized bag, she waited for Reid to speak.

"Life's just out of control right now. It feels like a rollercoaster I can't get off of."

"Home's not getting any better, huh?"

Spencer sighed and shook his head, "No. If anything, Calliope keeps getting worse. It's been like trying to watch over a bi-polar toddler with the physical abilities of a twenty-six year old. Yesterday, she pegged Morgan with a gallon of paint because he scared her."

"Is that how you got the black eye?"

"Frying pan."

"Ah. At least she's little?" Penelope offered.

"At least she's little?" Spencer looked at her, perplexed.

"You know… she's little, so she's not as strong as someone bigger. So when she throws something it won't have the same 'umph' as if, like… I dunno, Morgan or Hotch threw it."

"Adrenaline makes up for size, García," he laughed, finally understanding what she meant. When Penelope kept watching him, waiting for him to continue, he took a deep breath and forged ahead. "After my dad left, I took care of my mom until I turned eighteen and I admitted her to the sanitarium. Eight years. You build a lot of patience taking care of a paranoid schizophrenic. I have enough patience to take care of Calliope. It's just hard because I don't know how to help her. I'm just fumbling along in the dark, hoping I'm doing the right thing.

"Overnight, we went from being equal partners together to everything being completely messed up. She's not my Calliope. I just miss my sweetheart."

"Awww, Dr. Reid, you're completely adorable. You're like an old married man or something." Penelope's hands stilled over her knitting and she looked up at him with a mushy expression. When Spencer just looked at her as if she had sprouted a second head, she rolled her eyes and stuffed her knitting back in her bag, picking up both her coffee and his. "Come on. Get up."

"Where are we going?" Spencer asked, slowly following her out of the coffee shop.

"We're going to the Barnes and Noble down the street, Boy Genius. There's a book you need to read."

"How do you know I haven't already read it?"

"Trust me, Reid. You haven't read it. I promise."

"Are you going to tell me what the book is?"

"Nope."

"That's never a good sign," he sighed as they entered into the store.

"Okay, I'm going to go get the book. I'll be back in a minute," she called over her shoulder, quickly striding away. Spencer rolled his eyes, knowing that arguing with her would get him nowhere. He wandered over to the medical books and, leaning heavily on his crutches, he picked up a volume on posttraumatic stress disorder and began to skim its context. He had just picked up a second book when his cell phone beeped and, seconds after he tapped out a response to Penelopes' 'where are you?' text, she popped up next to him, a green bag hanging off her wrist.

"Ready, Wonder Boy?"

"Yeah. I just need to pay for these."

"_Healing Together: A Couple's Guide to Dealing with Trauma & Post-Traumatic Stress_?" Penelope tilted her head to read the title on the book Spencer had just pulled off the shelf.

"I have the patience to help her, but I need the tools," he explained as she took the books from him and followed as he crutched himself to the checkout counter. Slipping the books into the bag on her wrist, Penelope lead the way out of the bookstore back up the street to where she had parked.

As she pulled out into the road, Spencer took the book she had bought for him out of the bag and rolled his eyes. "You got me a romance novel?" He stared at his friends, incredulously.

"_The Notebook_ is more than just a romance novel. Plus, you'll identify with the narrator. Why do you continually doubt me, Dr. Reid? When have I led you astray on accident? Purposefully, yes. Accidentally, no. I do believe _you_ came to _me _last November when you needed help picking out Calliope's birthday present? Who'd you come to when you couldn't figure out why Calliope was mad at you? Who'd you come to when –"

"I get it, I get it" he muttered, reading the back of the book.

"You have to promise me something."

"Alright, what?"

"Take your time reading that. I know, you read twenty thousand words per minute, I know. Everyone knows. Try and slow your brain down."

"I don't think it works that way, García, but I'll try. Wait, where are we going? The train station is over there."

"I'm driving you back to Fredericksburg. You've been on your knee too much today. What? You don't think Garcy notices how often you've been wincing? I'm not a profiler, but that doesn't mean my beautiful bespectacled eyes are blind. You're in pain and I'm driving you home. Plus, I want to see Calliope."

"Just don't expect her to be the Calliope you remember."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer was confused by the loud music that could be heard from the outside of the house as he awkwardly hopped up the steps to the front door.

"We need to make you a ramp," Penelope chuckled.

Giving a non-committal response, Spencer slipped his key into the lock and opened the door. He plugged the codes into the alarm keypads while Penelope closed and locked the door behind them.

"Sweetheart?" Spencer called out, not truly expecting an answer.

"In the kitchen!"

"She sounds like herself," Penelope said.

"I think she's having a good day. She was herself for a few hours earlier this morning." Spencer made his way to the kitchen and stopped when he saw her holding a frying pan. "Sweetheart… why are you holding the…"

"Are you still thinking about leaving the BAU?" Calliope asked calmly, not turning around.

"Leaving the BAU? Reid, what's she talking about?" Penelope looked at him, confused.

"That's what we were arguing about this morning. She said if I kept talking about it she was going to 'find the frying pan and beat some sense' into me. Calliope, Sweetheart. Can you put the frying pan down?"

"Are you still thinking about it?"

"Yes," he answered honestly.

"Then no. I cannot." Calliope turned around, crossing her arms. "You aren't leaving the BAU because of me."

"Put the frying pan down and we'll talk. I promise."

"You'll start talking crazy again."

"I'm not being crazy, Calliope. I'm being logical. Overprotective, maybe, I'll give you that, but not crazy. I don't want anything happening to you again."

"Spencer Reid, you're infuriating! I love you to death and right now I'm leaning more towards the death part of that equation. You cannot protect me from all this. Nothing is going to happen to me! I'll get over this. I _will_ get better."

"I know you're going to beat this. I have no doubt about that."

"Then why do you want to leave the BAU? It doesn't make sense. You love your job."

"I love you, Calliope. I'm not going to let anything happen to you and I can eliminate a lot of threat by finding a less dangerous job."

"This would have happened anyway!"

"Calliope, I'm not going to argue with you about this right now. Put down the frying pan."

"I can't. I'm mad at you." The harsh edge to her voice was dropping off and Spencer could tell she was close to tears.

"Come here, Sweetheart. It's ok," he held an arm out and she dropped the frying pan, running into his embrace, tears falling down her face. "There we go. I've got you, my sweet girl, I've got you. Everything's alright."

Calliope buried her face in his chest and cried while he held her, quietly reassuring her. Picking up the pan, Penelope looked away from the couple, trying to give them a semblance of privacy. "You can't leave the BAU, Spencer. You just can't. I'm sorry, Spencer."

"You're fine, Sweetheart. It's all right. No more tears. We'll fight about this some more later." Spencer kissed her forehead and dried her tears with his thumb.

"I love you," she whispered as she stood on her toes to kiss him.

"I love you too, Calliope. Go put on some PJs and we'll watch a movie, ok?"

"It's only the afternoon."

"So? How many times have you tried to get me to make a blanket fort?"

"You're going to make a blanket fort with me? Seriously? Can I inflate the dinosaurs too?"

"You have inflatable dinosaurs?"

"Hells yeah. You don't?"

"Do you really want me to answer that question?"

"Sweet! Blanket fort!" Calliope did a weird little dance and skipped towards her bedroom before skidding to a stop, turning around and running back to attack the blonde still holding the frying pan. "Ethel! I missed you."

"I missed you too, Lucy." She told her, hugging her back, but looking at Spencer with concern plain on her face.

"Do you want to call Kevin? We could make it a foursome."

"I can't tonight, Calliope. I'm having dinner with a woman from a group I counsel. She's having a rough time. Rain check?"

"Ok. I'm going to go put on my movie pajamas. Don't leave without saying goodbye."

"I won't." Penelope watched as Calliope went into the bedroom and shut the door before turning to the man standing next to her. "Reid, what the hell's going on?"

"Well, actually that was relatively normal."

"Reid. Come on. Calliope's the Lucy to my Ethel. I know her well enough to know that was normal. Leaving the BAU?"

"Maybe you should put the frying pan down."

Penelope stared at him before laughing and hooked the pan back onto the pot rack above the stove. "Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's set in stone. I'm still thinking about it. I don't know, but that letter… it just reinforces the reasoning behind me thinking that maybe its time for something safer. Teaching, maybe. I don't know."

"You'll talk with everyone before you decide to leave, won't you?"

"It's really not the teams decision."

"But we're a family, Reid. Bizarre and a little screwy, but still a family."

"I know. That's why I have to think about this. I don't want to leave, Penelope. If I weren't with Calliope, I wouldn't even been thinking about this. But I am and I love her. I have to protect her. And, if I can do that by getting a safer job, then that's what I have to do.

"You leave the BAU and you'll be single, so you won't have to worry about it."

The two turned at Calliope's voice and saw her dragging several blankets from the bedroom. Spencer smiled when he saw the teddy bear he'd given her as part of her birthday present tucked under her arm.

"Can we fight later? Please, Sweetheart. I'm tired and I really don't feel like fighting right now."

Calliope didn't answer. Instead, she plopped down on the couch and started flipping through her massive case full of DVDs. "How about _Funny Girl_? Have I made you watch that one yet?"

"Why don't we watch _The Dick van Dyke Show_? Don't you have that on DVD?"

"I knew there was a reason I fell for you," Calliope smiled before retrieving the boxes from the shelf.

"Lucy, I'm gonna head out, ok?" Penelope walked over and the two exchanged a hug before walking towards the front door. Spencer watched the two women walk away and scrubbed his eyes with his fists. He poured himself a glass of wine and had taken a few sips before Calliope returned.

"String Bean?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Yelling like that in front of Penelope." Calliope slipped behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his shoulder blade. "I didn't realize she was here when I started, and then when I saw her I had a Pringles moment."

"A Pringles moment?"

"You know… once you pop, you just can't stop?"

"Of course," Spencer said, shaking his head. "You're crazy, you know that, right?"

"And yet, you love me. So what does that make you?"

"I'm still trying to figure that out. Come to the other side. I can't turn around without smacking you with a crutch." With her in front of him, he put the wineglass down on the counter and cupped her cheek with his hand, kissing her deeply. "Calliope, can we talk about everything for a minute without either one of us yelling?"

"I make no promises, but I'll try." She admitted truthfully.

"That's all I can ask. I know you think I'm being overprotective, but I'm don't think I am. Wait – let me finish before you start arguing. Please. It's my job to protect people but catching criminals and murderers. But I can't be effective at my job if I'm worrying about whether or not I can protect the one person who means the entire world to me. I've watched this job cost my friends everything. I'm not going to make the same payment they have. I'm not going to lose you because of a job."

"Spencer, you're not going to lose me."

"That's what Hotch and Haley thought. Now Haley's left Hotch, Hotch barely saw his son once a week and now he can't see either of them because they're in protective custody. Elle lost herself and killed a man in cold blood. Gideon doesn't understand the world anymore and just ran away. None of those are sacrifices I'm willing to make for a job. If I can't protect you, protect _us_, then this job just isn't worth it."

Calliope looked up at him and pulled his head down to hers to kiss him. "I think I understand now. I'm sorry, String Bean. I should have listened earlier. But I still don't think leaving the BAU is the answer. The BAU, your team members, they're your family. You love them and they love you. How about we make a deal?"

"What kind of deal? Spencer asked, trying not to physically baulk at her choice of wording.

"You stay in the Behavior Analysis Unit and continue doing your job as a profiler. Shhh… my turn to finish, Spencer. You stay with the BAU and, if either one of us ever start to feel like your job is costing either us or us as a couple, we'll talk about it again. I know I'm sick, Spencer. But this isn't because of your job. The painting was commissioned before I met you. I messed it up and had to do it again. It's no ones fault that I passed that house when he pulled the trigger. This would have happened even if it was some other officer and not you."

"Wouldn't you rather have me here with a regular job though, instead of leaving for days on cases?"

"Of course I would. But that's not who you are. I'm proud of what you do, Spencer. You've chosen to dedicate your life to helping people during the hardest times of their lives. The people you and your team help need you, they need all seven of you. Your team functions as brilliantly as it does because the seven of you together can do what no other combination of people can. You being gone on cases only makes the times when I get you even better."

"Calliope Sellers, you are some kind of woman." Spencer shook his head, before sighing and kissing her forehead. "Alright. It's a deal. As long as you promise to actually listen to me."

"Promise. I love you, Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid. So very, very much." Calliope pushed up on her toes and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I love you too, Sweetheart," he smiled against her mouth, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. "More than anything in the world. Wait, no. One more kiss. Thank you. Now, go start inflating your dinosaurs, goof. I have to make a phone call, but I'll be there in a few minutes."

Spencer watched happily as Calliope skipped into the family room before crutching out of the kitchen towards the office down the hall. Closing the door behind him, he pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialing.

"Hi, Ben. It's Spencer. No, no. Calliope's fine. She's in the living room right now. I really need to talk to you and Brenda as soon as possible. Can you two come to Fredericksburg tomorrow? Two o'clock? That would be perfect. Thanks. Ok. I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Ben."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Thanks so much for sticking with me for so long! I really hope you like what you've read so far.**

**So, for those who don't get the Lucy and Ethel reference, it's from_ I Love Lucy_. Which is one of the best shows EVER and I completely recommend you looking up.**

**Anywho - Thanks for reading, I hope you like it and please tell me what you think - good or bad!!**

**Love, Thalia**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Love is the condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert Heinlein_

o o o o

14, June 2009

Every joint in this body screamed in protest when he moved. Clenching his jaw tightly shut, he tried not to think about the amount of pain shooting from his knee to the rest of his body. Where the hell was he, anyways? Definitely not in a bed. Though, his head was on a pillow.

Cracking his eyes open, Spencer saw Calliope zonked out next to him cradling the teddy bear. He smirked and shook his head, still more than a little disoriented and disgruntled. The entire room was dark except for a singular source of bright light.

Turning his head, he realized what had happened. _The Dick van Dyke Show_… they'd fallen asleep watching it in their fort. Spencer pushed himself into a sitting position and scrubbed at his eyes before looking towards the offending light source, searching for the clock.

Five twenty-three am.

Groaning, he stretched his angry muscles and turned his gaze back to Calliope and the teddy bear wrapped snuggly in the pink and yellow afghan we'd given her for Christmas six months ago. He brushed the hair from her eyes and debated waking her up and getting her into a proper bed. As impressive as the fort had turned out, everything in him protested spending any more time sleeping on the hardwood floor.

"Sweetheart? Calliope, wake up for me, sweet girl. Morning, Sleeping Beauty. Let's get you into bed."

"Wha' time ist?" Calliope mumbled, her eyes half opened.

"Five thirty. Let's get out of the fort and get to bed."

Nodding, Calliope sleepily grabbed her teddy bear and the corner of the brightly coloured blanket and waited for him to carefully get to his feet. They made their way slowly from the living room to the bedroom – his crutches slowing him and her lack of fully functioning cognitive ability slowing her.

"Feel sixty," she mumbled as she cuddled next to him, yawning. "Only twenty-six. Sleeping floor… shouldn't be… deal."

"I know," he yawned too. "Go to sleep, Sweetheart."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The next time Spencer woke light poured into the room, the sun high in the sky. Sighing contentedly, he covered the small hand lying on his stomach with his and leaned his cheek against the cushion of curly hair that rested on his shoulder. He glance over her head at the clock on the bedside table.

One eighteen.

He couldn't remember that last time he'd naturally slept this late. To be honest, he wasn't sure if he'd _ever_ slept this late without being medicated. He was about to close his eyes again when he remembered.

_"Two o'clock? That would be perfect."_

"Shit, shit, shit. Calliope. Calliope, wake up."

"Twice in one day, String Bean," she groaned, glaring at him through barely cracked eyelids. "Something'd better be on fucking fire."

"Ben and Brenda are going to be here in forty minutes."

"What?" Calliope pushed up and looked at the clock. "Since when?"

"Yesterday. Come on, Sweetheart. Get up. Go put on some coffee." Spencer gave her a kiss as she rolled away, mumbling, and untangled herself from the blanket, before she made her way out of the bedroom. "I'm sorry."

"Not yet, you're not." She yelled from the kitchen and he could hear the coffeemaker gurgle to life. "Why are they coming anyways?"

"Just to talk," Spencer said, cursing to himself as he grabbed for his crutches and missed, sending them falling to the ground. "Calliope, I knocked over my crutches."

"I'm coming, Clumsy." She reentered the room with a travel mug of coffee and handed him two Advil. When he looked at her quizzically, she pushed the coffee into his free hand saying, "You're making the Holy-Crap-My-Knee-Hurts face. Take the aspirin."

Picking up the fallen crutches, Calliope hooked the coffee cup onto the side on the metal piping and helped him get steady on his feet. She was turning away when he grabbed the cloth of her tank top and pulled her back to him, engulfing her with his arms.

"I love you. You know that, right?" Spencer whispered against her temple.

"Of course I know. You tell me constantly. I love you too, though. Kiss." Smiling, he obliged her request and hugged her tight. "Mmm… thank you. Okay, I need my coffee now."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer was just pouring his third cup of coffee when the doorbell rang. Leaving the cup, he looked out the window to check on Calliope before making his way to the front door. He let Brenda and Ben into the house, exchanging pleasantries with Ben, and ushered them into the kitchen.

"Coffee?"

"No, thank you." Ben answered as he sat down, but Brenda accepted, nodding a curt thank you when Spencer handed her a mug. "What's this about, Spencer? Where's Callie?"

"Calliope's out in the garden. She's working on all the weeds that have grown. I've been watching her: she's fine." Spencer eased himself into a chair across from the other two. "There's just a lot I need to fill you in on. I don't know how much you know, if Calliope's told you anything, so I guess I'll just start from the beginning.

"Last January, the BAU team I work with – the Behavioral Analysis Unit – went to Boston to attempt to catch The Boston Reaper – his real name's George Foyet. He had been murdering people in the nineties, but stopped in ninety-eight because he made a deal with a detective. Last January, that detective died and Foyet started killing again. Our team went to Boston, we caught him, and he went to jail.

"But Foyet had ten years head start on us – on everyone, really. He'd be planning his escape for a decade and he did escape. He had completely disappeared until a month ago when he attacked my supervisor, SSA Aaron Hotchner, in his apartment. Foyet was going after Hotch and his family. His ex-wife and son were taken into protective custody by the U.S. Marshalls.

"Two days ago, Hotch received a letter from Foyet. I have a copy," Spencer handed Ben the sheet of paper. "Foyet's targeting all of us."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Brenda, stop yelling. This isn't his fault," Ben put a hand on hers.

"Isn't his fault?! Before Callie met _him_, she was a perfectly normal twenty-year-old with a normal life, normal activities, and normal worries. _He_ comes into her life and she's suffering from posttraumatic stress and, now, she has to worry about a serial killer trying to kill so he can hurt _him_! How is this _not_ his fault, Benjamin?"

"Brenda, this isn't Spencer's fault. We know what's happening. We can't change anything, but we know what we're going to do about it. We have a plan, Brenda. The three of us know how we're going to protect her, protect all of them. But if we start pointing fingers and assigning blame, we'll leave things to chance and then they can get hurt. We need to work together."

"How can you be so damn calm, Ben? Our granddaughter is sick and in danger and you're acting like this is perfectly normal and there's no reason to want _him_ out of her life."

"Look," Spencer said, getting her attention, "I know you don't like me, Ms. Sellers. I accepted that a long time ago. Right now, I don't blame you. I'm not exactly thrilled with this situation either. But I love Calliope and I'm doing everything in my power to take care of her and make sure she's safe and sheltered."

"_You're _the entire reason she's _not_ safe!" Brenda snarled.

"Brenda! Stop it! We're all here to pro–"

"Spencer? Spencer!" Calliopes' cries filtered into the house from the garden, and Spencer grabbed his crutches instinctively, pushing up from the table without a second glance at Ben and Brenda. "Where are you? Spencer!"

Hobbling cross the porch and down the steps, he caught her awkwardly when she launched herself into his arms, sobbing. Completely baffled, Spencer held her as tightly as he could without loosing a crutch and whispered gentle reassurances. He could feel her grandparents displeased gazes boring into his back as he attempted to soothe his distraught girlfriend.

"You're alright, Calliope," he murmured, kissing her temple and running his hand over her back as she began to calm down. "There we go. What happened, Sweetheart?"

"I – I gashed my shin with the cultivator and so I pressed the towel over it to stop it. Then, everything changed. I was back at Kensington Road and you were there and Dr. Barton and I was trying to stop the bleeding and then you were gone."

"Shhh… take a few deep breathes for me, Sweetheart. There we go. There we go. That's my girl." Spencer kissed her forehead and squeezed her. "It's over, Calliope. I know reliving it's scary. Has this happened before, Sweetheart?"

She shook her head no and buried her face in his chest, rubbing her nose against his sweater vest. Spencer pressed a kiss to the top of her head and got her to look up at him.

"It's over, Sweetheart. I'm right here. I'll always be right here. You know that, right? I'm not going anywhere. Nothing's going to take me from you. I promise. Are you still bleeding? Oh, shesh, you did do a number on your shin."

"No, it's stopped. I'm sorry, String Bean."

"Stop apologizing, Calliope. You haven't done anything wrong."

"Maybe not, but you're dealing with Foyet and a knee injury and your job in general and Hotch isn't back yet and the entire team is on edge and then me on top of everything else."

"Hey, hey… Calliope, you are not 'on top of everything else.' You're the most important. You know that."

"I shouldn't be, Spencer. Foyet needs to be the most important. You and the team have to stop him, have to catch him, and get Jack and Haley back safely." Calliope pushed up onto her toes and kissed him, tangling her hands in his hair. "I love you."

"I love you too, Sweetheart. Are you feeling a little better?" He smiled at her when she nodded yes and tucked a portion of hair behind her ear. "Do you feel up to talking for a while? I have some things I need to tell you."

"Okay. Is everything alright?"

"No," he told her frankly, "but it will be. It's about Foyet. Come into the kitchen with me?"

The couple followed Ben and Brenda back into the bungalow and Calliope sat in the chair Spencer pulled out for her.

"How are you feeling, Peanut?" Ben asked, sitting across the table from his granddaughter.

"I'm fine, Grandpa. Spencer takes good care of me," Calliope smiled and squeezed the young man's hand. "What's going on?"

"Hotch got a letter from Foyet a few days ago. That's why I had to go to Washington to meet the team yesterday."

"Oh no. Are Jack and Haley alright?"

"Jack and Haley are fine. Hotch called the Marshall protecting them and made sure. The letter was a taunt about what Foyet was going to do after he finished off Hotch."

"He's going to go after the rest of the team…" Calliope said, realization dawning on her. "That's what it says, doesn't it?"

Spencer nodded and handed her the copy of Foyet's letter. She read through it quickly and Spencer watched as her jaw tightened in rage.

"He's not going to hurt any of us. You and the team will catch him," Calliope stated, putting the letter back down and looking over at him.

"Yes, we will. Foyet's not going to get away with any of this. But, for now, we need to talk about how to protect you. That's what Ben and Brenda are here."

"Mammy, this isn't his fault. He already tried to leave the BAU to keep me safe. I won't let him." Calliope stared down the weathered woman who was still shooting Spencer murderous glances. "Mammy. Stop it. Go take a walk, Mammy. You need to clear your head."

"Watch your tone, young lady."

"No. Mammy, this is _my_ home and you cannot treat Spencer this way. I'm twenty-six years old, Mammy; I'm not a little girl anymore and you can't make my decisions for me. No matter what you think is best. Being with Spencer is my decision and you can't change that. "

Brenda stood up and the two stared at each other, waging a silent battle of wills.

"Stop it. Both of you," Spencer said, pulling Calliope back down into her chair. "You're being absurd. This is exactly what Foyet wants. He sent this letter to scare us, to send us into a panic, and you're just playing into his sick little game. I know you don't like me, Ms. Sellers. No, Calliope, I know she doesn't. I have received the message. Actually, I think all of Virginia has received the message. I don't care. Right now, I just don't care. All I care about is keeping you safe."

"Brenda, sit down and stop being ridiculous." Ben sighed, pulling the furious woman into her chair. "Callie, we're going to set up body guards for you – and for everyone else listed in the letter. We have more than enough to take care of them. There's no reason they should have to worry about it. I'm going to talk to Eli and Isaac about moving in here and watching you."

"Mark's sons – Eli and Isaac Gregg. They're kind of like makeshift cousins, I guess," Calliope explained to Spencer when he looked at her blankly. "They work at Dahlia as security, but they're really our body guards when we need them. They're ex-Marines. Foyet wouldn't stand a chance against them."

"We can have, um, Walt Seigl on Ms. Jareau, Mr. LaMontange and their son," Ben continues, scribbling down on a pad of notebook paper. "Tyler Rhoades can take Ms. García when she needs it and relieve Seigl when he's off."

"Tyler and Walt are Reserves. Seigl is Marines and Rhoades is Army." Calliope translated for Spencer. "They're both retired from active duty, but you'd never know it by looking at them. They run a PT course for military men and women in the reserves or about to go to boot camp… things like that."

"You said the Morgan family is in Chicago?" Ben asked, looking up at Spencer who nodded. "Callie, who do we know in Illinois?"

"Morris, Nelson, Bañea, Kirkwood, Kehm, Robinson, Heed, and, I think, Clouston just moved there. You'd have to check on Clouston though."

"Morris, Bañea, Kirkwood and Clouston would be best. And the Galens were in Connecticut, so that would mean Harper, Harle, Buckley and Adams. I'll talk to them tomorrow and see if they're up for some work. What about Ms. Prentiss' mother and Mr. Cooley?"

"Emily's mom is an Ambassador. I think she'll probably have someone she knows, but I'll ask if you'd like. And I really don't know anything at all about John Cooley. I'd have to talk to Emily."

"You do that and get back to me, alright?"

Spencer nodded, ignoring Brenda Sellers glowering at him when Calliope leaned against him, and he started absently running his fingers through her hair. He smiled when she tried to stifle her yawn and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Tired, Sweetheart?"

"A little. Too much excitement for one day," Calliope took a sip of his coffee and wrinkled her nose when she tasted it. "Bahh! Did you dump an entire canister of sugar in here, String Bean?"

"No, only half today."

Calliope laughed and kissed his cheek before standing up and wandering into the kitchen to get her own coffee. Sitting back down with a fresh, steaming cup of liquid life, she picked up the letter again and reread the words.

"What about your parents, Spencer? Diana's not going to understand..."

"I know," he said, pursing his lips. "Dad'll be easy. Mom's going to be so confused, no matter how I try and explain it to her. I need to talk to her doctor and see what he says about the entire situation. Maybe they can set something up so she doesn't realize someone's there watching over her."

"That would probably work," she agreed, taking a sip of coffee. "Just make him out to be a regular guard or whatever they have at Beninngton. We'll figure it out, Spencer."

"I know."

"None of us have to go away, do we? I mean, not like Haley and Jack Attack. We can still stay in our lives – okay… that sentence was terrible and made no sense whatsoever. Let me try that one again. I can stay here with you and still be me. And the Morgans and the Galens and Henry and Will can stay with their families and keep living their lives. We don't have to be hidden away."

"No, none of you have to go into protective custody. The team talked ad nauseam yesterday. We know Foyet and he isn't going to move on to another target until he's done with Hotch. He's a narcissistic sociopath and a disciplined, sadistic killer who enjoys watching as he torments the people he's targeting, and he would never add another target at the same time because he couldn't enjoy it as much, he couldn't focus specifically on the target if he doubled up. He stopped killing for a decade just because of the thrill he got from knowing he outsmarted Shaunessy.

"Foyet is all about power and control and manipulation. Right now, all he wants is to watch as he destroys Hotch by taking away his family. He sent the letter as another way to show exactly how much control he has over the situation. A sort of 'look what I can do' taunt. He just wants to scare us and enjoy watching us worry about our families, but he'd never actually act the threat until Hotch, Haley and Jack are dead. He will drag this out as long as he can, to extract as much pleasure out of it as he can. But just because we know this doesn't mean we should take any chances."

"How do you know this for sure?" Brenda asked, her glare replaced with speculation and disbelief.

"This is what I do for a living, Ms. Sellers. The team catches criminals by analyzing their behavior and we're damn good at it. It's why we work so much – very few other people can do what we do successfully. Everything I told you – it's all in The Reaper's profile, in our profile of him. We know him and we're going to find and stop him before he hurts anyone else."

"Wait a second. Have you even asked the rest of the team about this?" Calliope stared at her grandfather. "Or are you just being you, Grandpa, and forcing Sellers protection on them whether they want it or not?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer groaned aloud as he reached down into the freezer and pulled out of bag of frozen peas before painfully making his way to the couch. Lowering himself as carefully as he could, he settled in and put the bag of peas on his knee, silently urging the numbing effects the icy vegetables produced to work quickly. Cracking the book open, he read.

…_ My life? It isn't easy to explain. It has not been the rip-roaring spectacular I fancied it would be, but neither have a burrowed around with the gophers. I suppose it has most resembled a blue-chip stock: fairly stable, more ups then downs, and gradually trending upward over time. A good buy, a lucky buy, and I've learned not everyone can say this about his life. But do not be misleaded. I am nothing special; of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts, and I have led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I have loved another will all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough…_

_… But he had been in love once, that he knew. Once and only once, and a long time ago. And it had changed him forever. Perfect love did that to a person, and this had been perfect…_

_… An ordinary beginning, something that would have been forgotten had it been anyone but her. But as he shook her hand and met those striking emerald eyes, he knew before he'd taken his next breath that she was the one he could spend the rest of his life looking for but never find again…_

Spencer closed the book and tossed it back onto the coffee table, scrubbing at his eyes. Intriguing as the book García had given him was, he wasn't in the mood for it; his mind was too muddled to focus.

"You're knees hurting again?" Calliope asked when she walked out of the bedroom.

"Hmmm? Oh, yeah."

"Are you sure you don't want any Tylenol 3? You have over half the –"

"No." Spencer said firmly. "I don't want any Tylenol 3."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm just – I'm just worried about you. You're in pretty constant pain, Mr. Magic."

"I know. I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm just exhausted. Fighting with your mammy is more mentally grueling then interrogating an unsub. Not that that's an excuse. I'm sorry."

"Do you at least want some regular aspirin? It'd at least take the edge off."

"Alright," he agreed, repositioning the peas that had slipped when he'd tossed the book away. He took the red Coke can from her and tossed the two Advil back, washing them down with the acidic drink as he watched her walk back into the kitchen. "Thank you."

"Hey, Spencer?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering… what do you think about moving in with me? Here, I mean…" Calliope opened the fridge door, not daring to look at him. "Your lease on your apartment is almost up and you spend most of your time here anyways."

* * *

**A/N:**

**So... I hope you like it! I managed to get it up exactly a week from the last update too! haha Success is mine!**

**Anyways, thanks for reading!! Please, tell me what you think, good or bad. :)**

**Love, Thalia**

**OH! P.S. The Valentines Day short will be up in a few days. It makes me giggle. X3**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds**

* * *

"_Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need it." – Jane Howard_

o o o o

25 July, 2010

"Hey! Morgan! Be careful with that," Spencer said as Derek took the painting off the wall from where it had hung above the wilted couch that was now on its way to a landfill somewhere.

"I'm being careful. Stop freaking out," Derek rolled his eyes at his brother before taking a longer look at the grayscale painting he was holding and Dave came over to look at the painting as well. "It's interesting. Not something I would have thought you'd have picked out, though."

"I own several of this artists paintings. They aren't cheap," Dave said, glancing at the signature. "I wish I knew who the artist was. No matter how many times I try and find out his name, I never get anywhere. His signature is intriguing – a scroll and stylus. I can't figure out what it means. Maybe it doesn't mean anything. This style, though – this black and white with a singular element of colour – I haven't seen this before. He's trying something new. Where'd you get this, Reid? It's beautiful."

"I got it directly from the artist."

"You've met him?" Dave turned around.

"Yeah. So have you," Spencer bit back a smile from where he sat packing the multitude of stacked books into cardboard moving boxes.

"I have?" Dave's brow furrowed and Spencer could practically see his mind whirring, trying to work it out.

"Yeah. She's in the other room. You should go introduce yourself."

"The other room? Callie? Callie did this? Our Callie's the artist I've been trying to find for a twelve years? That's not possible. That would mean I bought my first painting of hers when she was only…"

"Fifteen. And she does sign her paintings. The scroll and stylus…"

"Calliope… the muse of epic poetry. And I call myself a great profiler."

"Great? I'd go with semi-passable," Morgan laughed.

"You just need a refresher on Greek Mythology," Spencer grinned.

"Cal really painted this? I didn't realize she was this good."

"You thought I was lying?"

"No, I thought you were biased," Morgan answered him, truthfully. "I've never seen her work. I just knew she was a painter and that she taught. I didn't know the level."

"The intricate patterns and colours of the butterfly are remarkable. Did she explain it? Did she tell you what inspired the painting?" Dave looked over at Spencer.

"Riley Jenkins," Spencer told them softly.

"Riley Jenkins?" Morgan looked up in surprise.

"Yeah. She – Calliope's amazing. She has an entire collection from our cases. One for every case we've been on since I started dating her. Except Riley. She painted him because she knew how important he is to me."

"She's done 43 paintings like this?" Dave asked as Derek slipped the painting into it's traveling case. "Do you think Callie'd let us see them?"

"She hasn't finished all forty-three. She's finished thirty-six of them, but the rest are either in progress or sketched. She's very slowly working on the one for the pig farm. It's six feet by twenty-five. It's supported by four lined up easels. I have no idea how she even got it _to_ the house, much less _in_ the house or the studio. But she can't work on – it's too much for her. She only does a little bit at a time while she works on other paintings. And she'll probably let you see them – the finished ones anyways. You'd have to ask her."

"What's she working on now? Besides the pig farm," Derek asked.

"She has a few commissions, but generally she keeps painting Hotch, Haley, and Jack."

"In the abstract? Like that?" Dave gestured at the case.

"No, no. Portrait paintings. At the park, playing on a swing set, blocks, reading, eating, Jack sleeping… anything. Calliope misses Jack. She loves that little kid. You know, he calls her 'Aunt Callie'?"

"That doesn't surprise me," Derek smiled. "All kids love Cal. Probably because she's just a giant kid herself."

"No kidding. I think she misses Haley too, which is weird because they don't really know each other. Calliope's babysat Jack a few times, but she really hasn't spent all that much time with Haley."

"Reid, do you really think a mother is going to leave her child with a woman she doesn't know?" Dave asked the naïve doctor. "I mean, the first time was an emergency: she needed someone to take Jack so she didn't have to take him to the gynecologist and Hotch suggested Callie. I'd be willing to bet those two know each other a lot more than either one of them have let on."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because your Callie is smart enough to know that Haley is her in a decade."

"She… that's not –"

"That's not what I meant, Reid," Dave put up a hand, seeing the sadness in Spencer's eyes at the statement. "I meant that Callie knows Haley understands what she's going through. Haley's been a BAU wife and can appreciate what Callie's saying and feeling a lot better than any other person on the planet. There are only twenty-nine of us profilers in the entire country and most of us are either single or divorced. Only Michaels and Rider are married. That means Callie's support system outside of this team and her family and friends in Williamsburg and Fredericksburg is incredibly limited.

"Her family and friends can sympathize and listen, but not truly understand, not offer insight. She knows the members of our team love her, but she also knows that, no matter how much we love her, she can't cry to us when we're on a case and she misses you or something goes wrong. She's not a cop's girlfriend or a military girlfriend – they have support groups and systems out the wahzoo. For her – nothing. Of course Callie and Haley connected.

"Callie's babysat Jack only a few times. Not nearly enough for him to actually begin calling her Aunt Callie. That means he must be seeing her other places. Places with Haley present. And far more often then any of us think. I'm sure Haley saw herself in Callie: Haley was once a young woman just like her, completely in love with a man who had to leave her on a regular basis to hunt down monsters. Haley may not be married to Hotch anymore, but he still leaves her and Jack when we go on cases. It shouldn't be a surprise that they'd take to each other."

"Why – why wouldn't she tell me?"

"Cal doesn't want you to think she's weak."

"I don't think she's weak," Spencer protested, looking from Dave to Derek.

"Maybe not, Reid, but look at everything you do to try and protect her. Your girl is perceptive as hell – if you need any more proof other than being with her for a year, just look at that painting of how she portrayed Riley for you; Cal knows you do everything you can to safeguard her. She doesn't want to give you any reason to think she's more fragile than you already act her like she is. Oh don't even try, Reid. You treat her like she's a queen, yes, but a highly breakable queen made of glass."

"I just don't want anything to happen to her."

"We know, and she knows. Hiding her insecurities from you, her needing to talk to Haley, is her way of trying to protect you." Dave told him. "I didn't say it makes sense to normal people, but it makes sense to Callie and that's what matters. She can see how much stress our job puts on us; she doesn't want to add to that by telling you that, sometimes when you're gone on a case, she needs someone to talk to. She's trying to be the pillar of strength."

"I think I have too many books, Morgan," Spencer sighed, changing the subject, as he pushed the full box away, grabbed another unassembled box and began putting it together.

"What number box are you on?" Derek asked, dropping the topic without hesitation.

"Fifteen. And I still have about half my collection to pack up."

"You do have too many books," Morgan rolled his eyes.

"Hey. Sorry I'm late," Hotch walked into the half-packed apartment.

"You're not late," Spencer smiled, beyond eager for the distraction and reason not to talk about Calliope and Haley anymore. "You're doing me a favour. I'm grateful no matter what time you show up."

"Where are the girls?" He asked as he shrugged of his windbreaker and joined them.

"Packing up the bedroom and the bathroom," Dave supplied. "You'll hear them. Every once and a while they burst out laughing. We've decided we don't want to know why."

"Probably a wise choice," Hotch agreed, gracing them with one of his rare smiles. "Jeeze, Reid. How many books do you have?"

"Too many."

The men lapsed into an easy flow of conversation as they packed up books and DVDs and knickknacks. Dave carefully taped bubble wrap around picture frames and dust-collectors and handed them to Derek to be packed. Hotch pulled books off the shelves and stacked them in front of Spencer, who was sitting on the floor with an ice pack on his knee, so he could pack them into boxes without putting stress on his leg.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Ugh… these sheets are… _something_. I'm not sure what. Some weird mutant cross between hideous and funky. I suggest pretending they get lost. So, Reid's just so great you can't stay away from him any longer than you have to, huh?" Emily teased as she packed several sets of hideous sheets on top of towels before taping the box shut and writing its' contents on the lid.

"Huh?" Calliope looked up from the drawer she was emptying. "Oh, and yes. Those sheets are going to be tragically torn beyond repair in the washing machine. Someone's going to accidently forget to take an unnaturally sharp set of keys out of her pocket. What was the last part, Em?

"You know," J.J. smiling slyly. "How is he?"

"In the sack," Penelope explained, exasperated when Calliope continued to stare at them blankly, not understanding. "How's Boy Genius in the sack?"

The three FBI employees laughed as Calliope flushed a bright scarlet when she understood and refused to look at them as she turned back to the drawer and began emptying the mismatched socks with fervor, muttering unintelligibly.

"What was that?" Emily asked, smiling.

"Wehaven'thavesexyet," she blurted out, her embarrassed flush deepening.

"What?!" was the general explosion from her friends, followed by a stream of disbelieving questions. Morgan appeared in the doorframe within a few seconds of the outbursts, asking if they were all right, his face filled with worry.

"Get out! Girls only!" J.J. shouted, Penelope threw a pillow at him, Emily ran over and pushed him back, closing the door, locking him out.

"You're okay, though, right?" He asked from the hallway.

"We're fine! Go away!" Emily yelled and they listened to his footsteps as he retreated back into the living room.

"He's moving into your house and you haven't done the dirty?" Penelope asked, staring at her friend, packing completely forgotten. Emily and J.J. sat down on the stripped bed next to her, pulling Calliope on with them for an impromptu gabfest.

"I wanted to wait," she muttered, picking at the loose threads on the frayed edges of her purple cut-offs.

"For a year?" Penelope asked, horrified at the thought.

"It hasn't been a year," Calliope protested, faintly.

"Less than a month and it will be."

"Well, I was kind of going to, you know, tell him I was ready… but you all got called to Canada, and then, the day you got back, he got shot. Things got in the way. Plus, he can't move his leg without searing pain at the moment. That kinda ruins the mood a bit."

"You are just so adorably cute! Ugh, you and Reid are going to make me diabetic!" Penelope said, reaching for her face, and Calliope backed away from them until she was barely balanced on the bed.

"Stop looking at me like that. All of you. Stop."

"Looking at you like what?" Emily smiled.

"Like you're all about to play dress-up and I'm the Barbie.

"We'd never play Barbie with you," J.J. told her with a less than reassuring expression on her face. "We might just _help_ a little bit."

"Help?" Calliope watched at them skeptically.

"Help. I mean, c'mon. Aren't you a bit tired of celibacy?" Emily asked.

"I… I dunno. Maybe?"

"Maybe? Luce, what kind of answer is that?" Penelope stared at her. "Oh my God, you're not…"

"Not what?"

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"She can't be…"

"Can't be what?" Calliope was beginning to look like a trapped animal searching for an escape and, just as she was about to try and slip off the bed, Penelope grabbed one of her braids and held her in place.

"You've never had sex before, have you?"

"Don't be stupid. Of course, she has," Emily shook her head and rolled her eyes at Penelope before looking at Calliope. "Haven't you?"

The bright flush that resurfaced across her cheeks answered better than any words could have.

"Oh, my God."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"C'mon girls! Let's go. We're gonna miss our reservation if you four don't hurry your butts up." Derek called from where he, Spencer, Kevin, Will, Dave and Hotch waited in the living room surrounded by semi-unpacked boxes and not paying attention to what was on the TV. "You four are gorgeous enough already. It can't take this long."

"Nice play with the gorgeous card," Dave smiled.

"Those women? Who needs to lie about that? They are. But, at this point, anything to hurry the process up." He rolled his eyes before turning to Eli and Isaac, both of whom were pulling on nice jackets. "What are you two doing tonight now that you're free of moving duty?"

"Goin' back down to Williamsburg tonight." Eli answered. "We already sent over a mug of Foyet and told the security at Source if they saw him to call 911 immediately. Callie's got nine guns around her and yall are going to a secure location in D.C., so we've got the night off until she and Spencer get home. Our sisters, Ashanti and Breelyn, are makin' a family dinner."

"Haven't been to one since this jackass started all this shit," Isaac continued. "Can't lie – I'm looking forward to the pie most. Breelyn makes the best blackberry pie in all of Virginia – seriously. She has a ribbon and everything. She steals the berries from the thicket on the backside of Dahlia and Uncle Ben pretends he doesn't know."

"I'm sorry you've had to miss –"

"If we keep our cuz safe, it's well worth a few missed dinners," Eli cut off the doctors' apology before turning to Will. "Who's with Henry tonight?"

"Walt Seigl's there with our regular babysitter," the young father twanged, smiling at the two black men shoving their feet into their scuffed up, Marine issue combat boots.

"You said Cal's got nine guns?" Derek asked.

"Yeah." Isaac nodded.

"I count six. I have one, Reid, Will, Dave, Hotch has two. If the girls put theirs in their purses, that's still only eight."

"You forgot Callie," Eli explained.

"Callie's got a gun?" Dave looked away from the painting he was studying.

"Do yall know our cousin at all?" Eli looked up from the boot he was lacing to stare at the other men in the room and Spencer's was the only face that wasn't registering surprise. "She's been shooting since she was little. We taught her. She used to go deer hunting with us and our dad; we stopped taking her with us because she wouldn't stop talking and kept scaring away the deer. She was captain of the pistol team in high school. She's had a CW license since she was twenty-one. HK P2000 Pistol."

"I know she doesn't act like it, but she's still one of the wealthiest women in the country, which, I guess, is just a testament to the job Uncle Ben and Aunt Brenda did raising her. She needs to be able to protect herself." Isaac stood up and grabbed his keys. "Hey! TooTall, Eli and I are off. Get your un-beautified butt out here and say goodbye."

"TooTall? This family is just plain weird, even by BAU standards," Hotch mumbled quietly to Dave and Will, staring at Isaac, and the door opened and the four women they had been waiting on came into view.

As their friends walked towards them, none of the men spoke. Rather, they watched, taking in their beauty and smiling. J.J. walked towards Will, her dark purple dress swishing around her knees. Emily fussed with the sleeve of her navy blue cocktail dress that ended mid-thigh, synched at the waist with a white ruched ribbon, and Penelope followed behind her, pinning the last few of Emily's brunette curls up, before stepping away. She wore a patterned sundress, white, black and yellow, with a short green cardigan unbuttoned over top of it and strappy yellow wedges clung to her feet.

"You look real pretty, Miss Emily." Derek heard Eli tell the single woman when she walked towards him to the fridge for a bottle of water.

"Thank you," she smiled, a happy blush dusting her cheeks.

Of the four beautiful women in front of him, Spencer's eyes went straight for the redhead in the back of the pack, taking in everything about her almost hungrily. Her hair had been pulled up into a low, loose chignon with two chopsticks stuck through, the unnatural colours blending in with the bright red he loved. Her vivid fuchsia stilettos added inches and matched the thigh-length, tight lace dress she wore. Spencer breath hitched as she turned around to grab something and he saw that the pale skin of her back was visible through the fuchsia lace instead of being covered by a matching sheath the way her front was.

Dave smirked and put a hand on the young man's shoulder in understanding.

"She is trying to kill me," Spencer muttered to the older man, running a hand over his face before pushing himself up and onto his crutches while Calliope danced over to her cousins and hugged them goodbye.

"I would go with 'succeeding,'" Dave smiled at him. "She surpassed 'trying' a long time ago."

"Good point."

"Ok. Driver's ready, guys. Trunk's packed and he's just waiting on us. Everybody ready?" Calliope spoke over the hum of chatter and those sitting stood, everyone walking towards her. She let them walk out first before sneaking back over to Spencer and stepping into his arms.

"You are absolutely stunning," he whispered, kissing her.

"You look pretty handsome yourself, Birthday Boy," she smiled and kissed him again.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Jeeze…" Emily whispered in awe as the driver opened the door of the limo for them. "What a world you live in, Calliope Sellers."

"No kidding," Kevin said as he shuffled out after Penelope.

Derek made to go to the trunk and retrieve the wrapped gifts, but Calliope put a hand on his arm and shook her head.

"They'll bring them up. They already have instructions."

"I don't think I could ever get used to this, Cal," he admitted, looking around and watching as people bustled around them, opening the door for them and taking the women's coats. "People following you around and doing things for you. Treating you like an invalid."

"Try being nine, wearing a flouncy, over-poofed dress, and just wanting to go play on the tire swing in a muddy part of the creek in boots and jeans. Why do you think I live in Fredericksburg instead of at Dahlia?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Cal, you're it." Derek said, standing up.

"It for what?" Calliope laughed.

"Dancing, let's go."

Calliope laughed again and downed the last of her margarita. After kissing Spencer, she let Derek pull her away from the table and onto the dance floor. A high-energy pop song had just started and the two began laughing and dancing in the middle of the floor with a clustering of other restaurant patrons.

"Who is this?" Emily asked, looking perplexed. "I don't think I've heard them before."

"Uh, Backstreet Boys." J.J. answered after listening for a second and leaned back against Will, who slipped his arms around her waist.

"Backstreet Boys?" Penelope asked, skeptically. "I thought they died like a decade ago."

"Well, Backstreet's back, alright?" J.J. said, making a face. Penelope and Emily burst out laughing and Spencer stared at them with his eyebrow raised, Hotch and Dave ignoring the reference they didn't understand.

"You know… the song, 'Everybody! Backstreet's ba' – nevermind, Reid. Go back to staring at your girlfriend." Emily rolled her eyes and turned to the other members of their party. "How is it he knows so much, yet so little?"

"My theory is selective osmosis," Hotch chuckled. Penelope laughed, popping the olive from her empty martini glass into her mouth and waving at Kevin as he came back from the bathroom.

"Hey everyone, here's your drinks. Yours, yours, and yours. Where'd the other two go? Oh, they make such a cute couple." The waitress stopped putting the drinks down to watch Calliope and Derek dancing. Spencer's jaw tensed, but otherwise he didn't move or even give reason for someone to think he'd heard her. His female co-workers, however, were not so discreet in their reaction. Will and Kevin watched silently, unsure of what to do, if anything, and Dave and Hotch stood back, letting the scene play out however it played.

The three females had mirrored looks of horror splashed across their faces as they tried desperately to derail the waitress and her runaway train without actually speaking aloud. Emily kept slicing her hand across her throat and J.J. waved her hands, trying to get the waitress' attention. Penelope, ever subtle, was doing something akin to the Macarena.

"There's just something about interracial couples that is just so attractive," she continued, staring at the dancing pair. "How long have they been together?"

"They're not," Spencer said, tightly.

"Oh, well, he better make a move on that before someone else does. They look perfect together." Taking the last three drinks off the tray and putting them on the table before picking up the empty glasses.

"She's, uh, she's spoken for," Penelope told her, still attempting to stop the ten car pileup that had started to multiply.

"That's a shame," she said, looking blankly at the three women, apparently still not receiving the silent S.O.S. they were transmitting. "What kind of man would let his girl go dancing with a hunk of man like that? Where is he?"

"Right here," Spencer said, turning to look at the waitress, keeping his face expressionless. If the girls weren't so horrified at the explosion they were witnessing, they would have found the look on the poor, stunned waitress as absolutely priceless as the four observing men did.

For the first time since walking up to the table, the waitress really looked at him instead of just giving him a passing glance, but that reaction wasn't anything new for the young genius. When she registered the crutches leaning against the table, she blushed and muttered an apology, trying to finish what she was doing, but, in her hurry, she knocked Emily's new drink over.

The waitress was frantically sopping the spilled liquid up off the table while the song ended and Derek and Calliope made their way off the dance floor back to their friends. Calliope was smiling as she easily slipped back into Spencer's arms and kissed him, blissfully unaware of what she'd wandered into.

"You need to get better, String Bean," she told him, picking up her new margarita. "I wanna get back to dancing."

"We've never been dancing, at least not formally," he reminded her as she hopped up to sit on his good leg and he steadied her to keep her from falling off the barstool.

"I know. I've been slowly working on tricking you into learning to swing dance with me," she said innocently, patting his cheek.

"You think I haven't noticed? Calliope, you're about a subtle as a forest fire."

"Forest fire's my middle name."

"What?" Derek looked at her, laughing. "Cal, that makes no sense.

"I know, but I didn't have a comeback for the 'subtle' zinger." She shrugged, taking a sip of her margarita as the waitress brought Emily's fresh drink. When the she was finally gone for good, Penelope couldn't stand it anymore and exploded.

"What was she, blind? We're over here doing the funky chicken and it goes right over her head." She exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

"Well, she's not going to win any IQ prizes anytime soon," Dave laughed.

"What? What happened?" Derek asked, confusion etched onto his face as he picked up his new drink.

"Can I see the funky chicken?" Calliope asked Penelope, giggling, not really bothered by whatever it was she apparently didn't know.

"Our waitress seemed to be under the impression that you and Calliope were, um, more than friends," Will explained.

Calliope pretended to size Derek up and wrinkled her nose in distaste, shaking her head. "Sorry, D. Just doesn't do it for me. Now, does anybody know an annoyingly smart, kinda skinny string bean? Someone who'll put up with me leaning a little towards insanity. Good at magic tricks. Maybe a little older than me, but not by too much. Over grown hair is kind of cute too. Oh!" She pretended to jerk in surprise at just seeing the man whose lap she sat on. "Be still my heart! Lookie here! I found one. Can I keep him?"

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head at her before kissing her. Derek and Penelope, ever mature, catcalled at the couple just as two waiters came up with a chocolate cake; twenty-eight candles alight.

"Jeeze, Spence. If this cake doesn't sedate your sweet tooth, I don't think anything will." J.J. laughed.

"That's if I don't run away with the cake," Emily joked. "I do love my chocolate."

Slightly embarrassed at the attention this gathered from the other patrons, Spencer still enjoyed the blissful ordinariness that came from celebrating his birthday with his friends, with his family. Calliope held a bit of his hair away from the cake as he blew out the candles after a loud and entire restaurant-encompassing round of _Happy Birthday_. But, what he enjoyed most, even if no one else knew his silent celebration, was moving a third birthday farther from the sixteen-to-twenty-five age range for the typical onset of male schizophrenia.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I figured, after the last few chapters, a little fluff was needed. And I wanted to see the team really pulling together for each other like a family with everything going on with Foyet. And I really, really like the quote I picked for the beginning. I hope yall did too. :) Pics of the girls' outfits are in my photobucket!**

**Anyways!! Happy Valentine's Day, my loverlies. Thank you for being my Valentines! Like I said in the A/N of the V-Day short: I'll be spending my Valentine's Day with homework (blech!), Spencer, Derek, Dave, and Aaron (yay!).**

**Ohhh - did everyone see last Wednesday episode - "Public Enemy"?! OH MY GOD. I seriously think it was the best since "100". I really, really do. So good. I cried at the end scene with the card and everything. /sob. So sweet! And so like our favorite TV family. And I can't wait until March 3rd to see the episode Gubler directed.**

**Thank you so, so much for reading and thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far! Please, continue to tell me what you think, good or bad! Seriously, I don't mind bad reviews, especially because I've been blessed with so many good ones. =] Also - if anyone sees Calliope becoming Mary-Sue-ish, please, PLEASE verbally assault me so I can fix it. ¡¡Gracías!!**

**Love, Thalia**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Absence diminishes small loves and increases great ones, as the wind blows out the candle and fans the bonfire." – François Duc de la Rochefoucauld_

o o o o

28 August, 2009

"_Spencer… I think I'm scared now," she whispered into his shoulder as they settled into bed for the night. His heart broke at this quiet confession and he kissed her forehead, holding her tightly._

"_I know, Sweetheart. I know. I'm scared too," he admitted._

"_You're gonna catch him. I know you will. You can the team can do anything. But I'm still scared."_

"_Eli and Isaac are moving in tomorrow. They're going to protect you when I'm not here, Calliope. If they're everything you built them up to be when your grandparents where here this afternoon, nothing will be able to hurt you."_

"_I know. Foyet… he… Spencer, I don't think I've ever actually been scared of your job before. I mean, I know it's dangerous. I always did. But this… that letter…"_

_Instead of responding, he simply stayed silent and held her, watching sadly as slow, noiseless tears trailed over her cheeks. Running his fingers through her hair soothingly, he dusted kisses over the tiny freckles the summer sun had painted across her nose. Neither spoke as the two listened to the soulful saxophone of John Coltrane, each lost in their thoughts._

_Calliope surprised him when she next kissed him, her lips tenderly insistent against his and both her hands caught in his hair, keeping him from pulling away, deepening the kiss in a desperate need for the reassurance the contact offered._

"_I love you, Spencer. Don't forget."_

"_Trust me, Sweetheart, I'll never forget."_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer sighed as he opened his eyes, instinctively rolling onto his side and reaching for her, but no small, warm body lay there to greet him. His mind clouded in lethargic confusion as he looked at the framed picture of his muse sitting on the nightstand and he jerked abruptly back to reality in the strange hotel room, away from the dream-memory, and pushed himself up into a sitting position.

He picked up his mobile and checked the time, mentally adding four hours to come to the conclusion that it was midmorning in Virginia, though still more than a little dark where he was. If he called now, Calliope would be awake and functioning courtesy of the four or five cups of coffee he was sure she had downed by now. Deciding to get ready for work before he called her, he put his phone back on the nightstand and got out of bed, pulling a set of clothes from his go-bag and turning on the tiny coffee maker the hotel provided.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out of the shower and pushed his wet hair from his face. He should probably trim it a bit… or a lot. Spencer shrugged, not really caring. If Calliope minded, she'd tell him. He walked back to the bed and grabbed the clothes he'd picked out before walking back into the bathroom and closing the door on the empty hotel room out of pure habit.

Coming out fully dressed, Spencer picked up his phone again; he had forty minutes before he had to be down in the lobby to head over to the precinct office. Settling back down on the bed, he pressed his muses' speed dial and then 'send,' waiting a few rings before she picked up.

"Good morning. Happy anniversary, Sweetheart."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Closing the door with her hip, Calliope traipsed to the back of the car and popped the trunk. She pulled her bright purple polka dot computer back out, slung it over her shoulder, and walked with Eli towards the formidable building before her. Handing the security guard her drivers' license, she pulled her necklace over her head, dropping it in a small clear box along with her charm bracelet, earrings and sunglasses.

She felt severely out of place with the eyes of everyone in the foyer glued to her as Eli waited a few steps away. She looked down at herself as a second officer ran a metal detector wand over her. Maybe she should have toned down her clothing choice today. Something told her that, in a bright green peasant skirt, yellow blouse, blue knit cardigan and boots, she would stick out in this sea of black suits like a… well – blotch of colour in a sea of black suits.

When the officer started handed her license back, she giggled, thinking, and the officer stopped her with a furrowed look on his face, pulling the license back out of her reach.

"What's so funny, Ms. Sellers?"

"Oh. No, nothing bad. I was just thinking about that scene in _Legally Blonde_ where Elle Woods is walking up the steps and she's in that bright pink suit and everyone else is wearing black… You probably don't know what I'm talking about. It was really funny though. And everyone else here is wearing black, so it made me… I'm going to stop talking now before I get myself kicked out."

"I know the movie," he told her, handing the card back to her, his face blank before offering a slight wink. "It was a funny scene."

"You just made my day. Thank you," she told him. A smile spread happily across Calliope's face as she picked up her bags from the x-ray machine and grabbed her jewelry from the plastic container.

"And you mine. Welcome to the BAU. Go sign in at the front desk. Have a nice day, Ms. Sellers. You don't see many of those in this building," he chuckled before taking the license of the next person in line.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"How's she handling it?" Morgan asked around the mouthful of sandwich he was chewing on, sitting at the table in Subway with his teammates.

"Handling what?" Reid asked, trying to play dumb as he took a sip of his coke.

"C'mon Reid. You're can't lie to us, because, one, we're profilers and, two, we all know what day it is," Prentiss rolled her eyes at the youngest of their clan and handed a few napkins to J.J., who smiled in a thank you, wiping the mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth.

"She's alright," he sighed, knowing he was cornered and not getting out of this without a comment. "Sad, of course. I can tell she's a little angry and trying not to be. I think she's feeling a little guilty for being angry, but she shouldn't: she has every right to be angry."

"Why should she be angry?" Rossi asked.

"No wonder your marriages never lasted, Dave," J.J. shook her head at the older man. "Spence officially moved in a month ago and, for over half of that month, he's been gone. You and Spence gave a week-long conference in Oklahoma City. Then we got called to Long Island with Judge Schuller, then we had the ridiculous construction crew case in D.C. and, even though he got to go home at night on both of those cases, it was only to sleep. They weren't normal working hours. Now we're here in Oregon and we've been here for ten days. This has literally been the busiest month we've had since I became liaison for the team. Of course she's upset. She's only really had him home for nine days, and that's including regular workdays. Instead of moving in, he's basically moved out. And now he's gone on their anniversary."

"I'm right here, J.J." Reid muttered, feeling more and more guilty as his pseudo-sister listed off the multitude of relationship transgressions he had committed in the past month.

"Oh, Spence, I'm sorry. I didn't… I wasn't thinking," J.J. sputtered, realizing what she'd done.

"Forget it. It's all right, J.J.," Reid dismissed her apology, studying the sandwich he held. "It's been a rough month. I think we've fought more in the past month than in the previous six combined."

"Has moving in caused problems?" Morgan asked, taking another bit of his sandwich."

"No way. He was practically living there before anyways," Prentiss laughed. The team chuckled with her and even Hotch cracked a smile. "His entire apartment had a layer of dust when we got there."

"So what's causing the fights?" Hotch asked. "Is it the job?"

"Partly. Mostly it's having Eli and Isaac there and not being allowed to go anywhere by herself. She hates being under protection. She keeps saying that if she wanted to be followed around all the time she would have stayed at Dahlia. She's not too happy with me right now and I don't really blame her."

"She blames you for Foyet?" Rossi stared, disbelieving. "That doesn't sound like Callie."

"She doesn't blame me for Foyet. She's angry that I brought Eli and Isaac into the house, that I won't let her go anywhere by herself, that she's basically been put on house arrest with a babysitter. I've lost track of how many times Brenda Sellers has called to yell at me and the two of them have ended up shouting over the phone. That lady is going to hate me until I die. It's just pretty much a disaster. It's a good thing we live so far from any neighbors otherwise, I don't want to know how often they would have called the police over our fights."

"You know, Pretty Boy, if I hadn't actually seen you two fight, I wouldn't believe you. But I have. And that girl scares the shit outta me when she's pissed. I've never seen someone fulfill a stereotype the way Cal personifies the hot-tempered redhead. I have no idea how you stand there and fight with her, because I know without a shadow of a doubt that I would be hiding under the bed praying to God she didn't find me." The group around the table laughed in agreement with Morgan's assessment and even Reid had to smile.

"If I didn't fight with her, fight _for_ her, I'd loose her. I almost made that mistake once; I won't make it again."

"Almost lost her? Spence, what –"

Prentiss snickered suddenly, causing J.J. to stop mid sentence and everyone to turn and look at her in confusion. Still snorting in laughter, she held up a hand, singling her need for a moment before she could explain.

"Reading tweets… Calliope – one of her tweets. Oh man. So funny."

"Tweet?" Spencer looked at J.J. for her to explain.

"Twitter. It's an online networking site where you can post little one-liners about random stuff to your friends. The updates are called 'tweets.' You know, Spence, if your cluelessness weren't so endearing, it could be incredibly frustrating."

"Is that safe?"

"It's as safe as you make it. Privacy settings and all that stuff."

"What'd she say, Prentiss?" Morgan asked.

"'twosamuse wonders why her String Bean has fifteen individual lime green socks – none of which match,'" Prentiss looked down, reading from her phone. "It was posted this morning. I guess she was doing laundry. Oh man, that made my day. Thanks, _String Bean_."

"Don't call me that."

"Awww," Morgan laughed, pinching Reid's cheek. "Only Cal can call you that, huh?"

"Leave the poor kid alone. He's already missing his anniversary; don't make it worse," Rossi smiled, kindly squashing the teasing session before it could gain wind. He nodded at Reid's grateful smile and crumpled up the wrapping from his sandwich and took a last sip of his drink.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"I can't believe this happened," Penelope signed as the twosome and their shadow walked back to the FBI agents' office.

"Why can't you? I totally can. After this summer, nothing would surprise me." Calliope gave a tight smile as her friend swiped her card to unlock the office.

"Yeah, but, today of all days, they have to be on a case. Are you giving him a guilt trip for it?"

"No, I'm not. He can't change it. Plus, he's doing a better job guilt-ing himself that I could ever do. He keeps sending texts saying he's sorry and he'd sent six things of flowers before I left to come here. Oh, here's another text now. Awww… String Bean." Calliope smiled down at the phone before looking up at the other woman who looked like she was about to say something. "I love you, Pen, but I already miss him and I _really_ don't want to talk about this anymore."

"You're right. That was totally thoughtless, I'm sorry. Big Mouth Ethel is shutting up now – promise."

"You're not a big mouth," Calliope gave a genuine smile as she sat down in front of her laptop and Eli sat in the corner, ever watchful. "You're my BFF. You're allowed special licenses, Pen."

"I'm your best friend?" Penelope asked quietly, spinning around in her computer chair to look at her equally colourful counterpart.

"I, uh, I… yeah. Am I totally lame for thinking that? Cause, I can take it back."

"Um, Luce – one, it's totally not lame. Two, if you take it back, I'm throwing my dinosaur erasers at you, and, three, ditto."

"Really?"

"I don't waste my dinosaur erasers on just anyone. Oh, Derek's calling. Don't talk. Hello. You've reached one eight hundred sexy cat, your resident tech kitten presiding. Speak if you think you can handle me."

_"Hey, Baby Girl. We think we may have a lead, but we're trying not to get our hopes up on this one. I need you to run a check for me."_

"Give it to me, Baby."

_"Run the name Charles Reitzi for me. Tell me what you find."_

"Okay, give me a minute."

_"A whole minute? I'm disappointed, Mama. I may just have to find someone else to –"_

"Oh, shut your dirty mouth and stop bluffing. You'll never find anyone who does it for you like I do. Besides – I've already got your dish."

_"That's my girl. What've you got?"_

"Charles Reitzi, thirty two years old. Woah – huge list of priors. Oh man, this guys is a major skeeze. Battery, assault with a deadly weapon, theft, armed robbery. He was arrested in oh-four for rape and battery, but the poor girl was too terrified to testify. Arrested again, twice, the next year for the same. But they couldn't hold him – lack of evidence and he got smart and wore a mask so they couldn't identify him. He was arrested again last year for rape, battery _and_ theft – all at the same time, mind you – but got off because of lack of evidence, they couldn't find the stolen items and, once again, the victim wouldn't testify."

_"Anything funky going on now?"_

"Besides the fact that he's walking around free when he should be locked up with the key tossed into a trash compactor, not really. He's laying low. Working at a tech company as a custodian. Oh, wait, Marsha Burris, the sister of victim number three, had a restraining order on him. I've got his address. He's at the Willamette View Apartments at 2332 Crestview Drive South, apartment 1309. Addresses of home and work in your GPS right now. I'm going to do some more digging on him and get back to you, Handsome."

_"Thanks, Princess."_

"What's going on in Salem?" Calliope asked after the phone clicked off. "No. Never mind. I don't want to know. I'm going to stay in my blissfully unaware world of colour and Photoshop where everything is bright and cheerful. I can't believe you had this idea, Pen. I mean, this is going to be awesome. You, Penelope García, are the resident genius of the BAU."

"You only say it cause it's true," Penelope smiled, pulling everything she could from cyberworld on the winner of the skeeze of the moment award. "You're the one doing all the work though. How are you getting these printed? I thought you had to purchase in the hundreds for a publisher to print a book."

"A friend from Washington and Lee, Mitchell Craig, owns a tiny little independent publisher in D.C. I gave him the start-up money when we got out of college and I own a few shares. It's not that successful yet, but he's breaking even and he loves it. I already asked and he said he'd print them."

"You're connections put J.J.'s to shame."

"She's welcome to them. As soon as I finish this last page for Dave, we're out of here to get to D.C. before my three o'clock deadline. If I get it there by three, Mitchell said he'd have them ready by five," Calliope said distractedly as she worked on the scrapbook style pages she was putting together on her MacBook Pro. Making a face, she clicked 'undo' a few times to blank the page again and started over.

"Don't you like being who you are?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I like being a Sellers. I love my family and I've had more amazing opportunities in twenty-six years than most people have in a lifetime. But it comes with a lot of expectations. I hate disappointing people. We are done. Forty-five minutes before deadline. Sweet. Thanks for letting us hang, Ethel. I'll back back in a few hours with the books." Calliope smiled, packing up her MacBook and tucking it inside the flamboyant computer bag.

"No problem. Trust me. I'm going crazy locked up in here by myself. I hate long cases. Oh. Quiet again. Derek's calling back. Only Super Foxes may speak. Dare if you think you qualify."

_"Hey García. Reitzi's looking really good from this end. What about up in cyberland?"_

"Well, you're in luck because I was just about to call you, Hot Stuff. On the day each of our victims went missing, the skeeze made the exact same set of phone calls to Joe Bradchaw, Chris Waters, and Gregory Allen. These calls were made within twenty minutes of the time each of our six victims. No records, but all four of them work at the same tech company as Reitzi – also as custodians. That's all already in your computer. Even inkier than that is that someone linked to each of the victims had a restraining order on Reitzi. Two sisters, one cousin, and three friends."

_"Why didn't any of us see this before?"_

"We weren't looking for it, Babe."

_"Well, we're looking for it now. Thanks, Gorgeous."_

"Always, Handsome."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Hey! You are in no position to try and screw with us, Reitzi. You are your little buddies have nothing left to work with." Morgan bellowed, smacking his hand on the table to get the man to shut up and stop rambling.

"We found your DNA inside Miranda Stearns. We have her alive at the hospital right now. We have the videos of you four torturing, raping and killing all six women _and _the four women you raped before refuse to be intimidated by you anymore. They're all giving their statements right now; they are all planning to testify against you in court," Hotch told him with calm contempt. Not troubled by the satisfaction he felt in knowing this man and his sick friends would never breathe free air again, Hotch stood up and walked out the door.

"We have you, my man. You have no way out." Morgan slammed the door of the interrogation room behind him and flipped open his phone, hitting his speed dial. "Baby Girl, you are my goddess. Don't you ever leave us. You are the entire reason we caught these scumbags. Yeah. The four of them. We found DVDs documenting every sick thing they did. They're going away for life and we're coming home. Oh – and don't tell Cal. Reid wants to surprise her."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"You nailed them? Was it all four of them? Ugh. That's disgusting. Scumbags. You're on your way home? Oh. Okay. I won't tell Luce. Yes, I promise. Bye, hot stuff." Penelope turned around and looked at her friend. "You have to pretend you don't know."

"I can't lie to Spencer."

"This isn't technically lying. This is more like… hiding something to make him happy."

"No, Pen, I mean, like, I _can't_ lie to Spencer. He always knows. Always. Even if it's lying about something like… I dunno… crackers or toothpaste or something. It's so annoying. Sometimes, I really hate dating a genius profiler. Gah."

"Fair enough. Profilers suck like that sometimes. I wanna see the books. C'mon, c'mon. I'm dying to see how they turned out." Penelope smiled, watching as Calliope laughed and sliced through the tape closing the box with a bobby pin. Pouncing, she pulled the box from Calliope and pulled one of the thin two-by-three inch books out. "They look like mini Bibles or something."

"Well, I wanted them small so they could keep them in their pocket or their purse," she explained. "Do you think they're going to like them?"

"Lucy, are you kidding? They're going to love them! You did an awesome job. Bahhh! I love it!"

"I think you're more excited than I am and I'm pretty stoked," Calliope giggled at Penelope who was eagerly thumbing through the pages, reading the words and looking at the pictures. "And stop giving me all the credit. Your idea, remember?"

"Oh my gosh! This picture of Henry and J.J. is so precious! I like how you colour-coordinated the pages to a specific person. Very cool."

"Okay, Eli and I are gonna leave before you inflate my head so big I can't get into the car," Calliope teased.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Happy looks good on you, kid," Rossi told Reid as they walked into the bullpen a few steps behind the rest of their team, Hotch already halfway up to his office.

"Thanks. It feels good."

"Hey, do you guys have little Bibles too?" Emily asked, picking up the small leather bound book on her keyboard. "Who would leave a Bible…"

"It can't be the entire thing: it's not thick enough. Maybe it's just a Psalms and Proverb book," Morgan offered, picking his up as well.

"Do we all have them?" Reid looked up from his mobile to look at his desk.

"Looks like it," Rossi commented, stopping next to Morgan, J.J. and Emily instead of going to his office.

"These are so not Bibles," Emily laughed as she saw the first page. "'Promise me you'll always remember: you're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.' A. A. Milne."

"Oh my god," J.J. smiled as Emily turned the page and a full-page picture of Hotch and Jack came into view. "There's a section for each of us."

"We have the best cheerleaders in the world," Morgan smiled, looking at the silly picture of the two colourful women in the García's office, as Hotch came back down the stairs.

"Who did this?" he asked, holding up his book.

"I think Callie and García did it," Rossi responded, looking over Morgan's shoulder. "To remind us why we do this job."

"Reid." Looking up from his book, Reid glanced at his superior to see the man's face soften. "Tell Callie thanks for me."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Want an opponent?" Spencer asked quietly from behind the couch where she sat in his CalTech sweatshirt-turned-nightgown and a pair of jeans playing Scrabble against herself.

"Not as much as I want a cuddle buddy." She smiled, not turning around to see him, knowing he was already halfway around the couch. Sitting down next to her, he leaned the crutches against the table and smiled as she finally turned to him. Calliope smiled and, leaving the board forgotten, she straddled his lap. After pushing back the sleeves of the oversized sweatshirt that had fallen over her hands, she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him as her newly freed fingers buried in his hair.

"I hope not everyone gets this welcome," he teased, hugging her tightly, enjoying being home again.

"Only for you, Mr. Magic," she smiled, settling into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, and letting her feet rest in the space between the small of his back and the couch. "Mmm… I missed you."

"I missed you too, Sweetheart. This is the job, though. I offered to –"

"If you're going to dare and finish that thought at least get our your phone first so you can time how fast I get to the frying pan and back," Calliope shook her head and kissed his neck, snuggling closer into his arms as he laughed. "I hate it when you're gone, String Bean, but it just makes me love when I have you even more. Okay, so. Time to settle up."

"I have a tab?"

"Yes. You've been gone most of this month so you owe me seven magic tricks, four games of Scrabble, two movies, dinner, three make-out sessions and a kiss."

"You're crazy, you know that right?"

"Indubitably. Now, shut up and kiss me."

"Impatient much?"

"Always."

"Seven magic tricks?" He asked and waited until she nodded seriously. "Well, I better get started then. Check your left pocket."

Spencer watched, smiling as Calliope slipped her hand into her pocket, and, after a few seconds, pulled her hand back out, uncurling her fingers to look at the glittering gold in her palm.

"Spencer… oh Spencer… it's beautiful," Calliope ran her finger over the hanging quatrefoil pendent. The center held a small diamond with gold spokes erupting from the center to connect it to the rounded edge, framed with a slender braid. "I love it, String Bean. But… how'd you get it in my pocket?"

"Privileged information. But… I think I can pull off a second trick. Pay off some more of my debt. Would you check your charm bracelet for me?" Calliope raised her eyebrow at him in disbelief for a moment before thumbing through the charms linked to her bracelet to find a miniature of the necklace buried with the others.

"How the hell did you get this on here!? I wear this every single day! _And_ you've been gone! How did you… I… You… It… I… you really are magic," Calliope sputtered, stunned, as she examined the minuscule quatrefoil, running her finger over the diamond and turning it to see the tiny engraving of '_28 August 2008_' around the edge.

"How many times have I told you? Never trust a magician. Especially one with a FBI credentials!" He laughed as she kissed him, grinning, and returned the affection. "I love you, Sweetheart. Happy Anniversary."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Yay! Another update on-time! Actually - it's a day early! =] Thanks for reading! I love you all. Pictures of Calliopes' anniversary necklace is on my photobucket. It's seriously pretty. Again, the password for the photobucket is "Calliope".**

**So, I'm crazy enjoying the Olympics, but, even though I loved watching Ohno and White compete last night (White was AWESOME omg), I was still sad that it meant there was no new Criminal Minds. :(**

**Anyways - thanks again for reading!! Thank you, thank you thank you! And thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! I hope you like it and please, tell me what you think, good or bad! =]**

**Love, Thalia**


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_The only thing we have to fear is fear itself – nameless, unreasoning, unjustified, terror which paralyzes needed efforts to convert retreat into advance." – Franklin Delano Roosevelt_

o o o o

14 October, 2009

"Another thing you need to keep in mind is that the unsub will have light, ash blonde hair. Probably short, crew cut. Very professional looking, similar to Agents Hotchner or Rossi's. Nothing like mine."

"I'm sorry, why is that significant, Dr. Reid? How do you know that for sure?" Detective McEwen asked as she looked up and the rest of the officers laughed at Reid's jokingly self-disparaging comment.

"It's significant because we know the man is targeting semi-high profile businessmen who work in the banking world. Each of the men he's killed most likely represents what he either once had and has lost or what he thinks he deserves but has been denied. The fact that all four victims have the same shade of blonde hair means that it's probably a trait the unsub shares with his victims. He never goes after brunettes, never redheads, no one with black or grey hair. Always light, ash blondes. Essentially, he's killing himself over and over again."

"Alright. Blonde hair it is. Okay, yall. Go get your assignments and make sure to relay all this information during shift change." McEwen told her officers as she stood up. When the officers were making their way back to their desks and various other places, McEwen turned towards the FBI agents around her. "I hope you're right about this."

"We are," Morgan assured her. "Ok. Prentiss and Rossi, I want you go to back to the victims offices and tear them apart. I want to know everything they did on company time – their meetings, their calls, hell, I want to know what they had for lunch if you can find it. Make sure to get Penelope access to their computers. Reid, keep working on the geographic profile as Penelope feeds you what she finds and we find out more about what the evidence turns up. J.J., I want you to get this profile out to the public – a large press conference – and set up a tip line. Hotch, you take an officer or two and go back to the dumpsites: see if there's anything we missed. I'm going to stay here and continue sifting through all this evidence with Detective McEwen."

The team scattered and Reid took another look at the board before shaking his head and turning towards the coffee machine. Morgan felt his pocket buzzing and he pulled out his cell phone smiling.

"Well, hello there, Little Elusive One. I haven't heard from you in a while; to what do I owe the pleasure? Oh, am I just not good enough? Really now? Oh, and there goes my ego. Ha! Just a second. Hey, Pretty Boy. Cal's calling. Apparently your phone's dead." Morgan grinned at Reid coming back with his coffee. "Here he is, Cal. Heh. Yeah, I'll talk to you later."

"Thanks, Morgan. I'm going to go outside. I'll be back," Reid told him, taking his friends mobile.

"He is some kind of cute," McEwen observed as Reid walked out of the station, leaning heavily on his single crutch and raising the cell phone to his ear.

"Tread lightly, Detective," Morgan chuckled. "Pretty Boy has a very sweet, but very possessive little girlfriend who could and would kick your ass without hesitation."

"Duly noted," she sighed with disappointment. "Why are all the cute ones taken?"

"Ouch, I'd like to think I'm at least decent looking." Morgan teased her, taking a sip of his coffee and sitting down to go through the evidence they had so far.

"You aren't the settling down kind of guy, Agent Morgan," she told him, picking up her own cardboard cup.

"Touché, Detective, touché."

"So… what's she like?"

"What's who like?" He asked, distracted and not looking up from what the photocopy of the coroners' report he was rereading.

"Dr. Reid's girlfriend."

"I don't see how Cal could possibly be related to this case, Detective. Let's keep our eyes on finding our unsub and off of what really doesn't belong in this conversation."

"You're right. I'm sorry – that was completely inappropriate," she nodded hastily, sitting down. "Do you think we'll be able to catch this unsub?"

"Yes, we will. This unsub is predictable; we've seen him before. What we need to do is find how the unsub picks his victims, how he finds them, and we'll be able to catch him. Don't get discouraged. Here, why don't you start with this pile?"

The two worked in silence for several minutes and Morgan tried to ignore the fact that the detective glanced out the window at the young profiler every few minutes.

"She's perfect." He said after a while, not looking up at her. She looked at him when he spoke, though, and thinned her lips. "Not in the general sense. Ha. Cal's far from perfect. But she's perfect for Reid. No disrespect meant, Detective, and I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, but Reid hasn't even seen you or any of the other women that have been in and out of this room. Calliope's the only lady who registers on his radar."

"Agent Morgan, I'm a big girl. You don't have to explain it to me," the blonde said, a cool edge to her voice.

"Then why do you keep looking out the window at him?"

"I'm a masochist?"

Morgan laughed at the blunt statement and nodded his head in agreement as he pulled out a miniature book from his back pocket and handed it to her. "If you're set on going after Dr. Reid, yes, you are."

"What is this?"

"That's a book Cal and our analyst Penelope García made. You met García over the phone. Everyone on the team has one exactly like that. Our team's dealing with a pretty complex case on top of our regular cases, like this one. Those two girls – I call them our cheerleaders – they decided to make these to remind us why we're working so hard on that case. A little pick-me-up for when we get discouraged. It's a scrapbook of the people who mean the most to us. Go to the, uh, I think it's the yellow section."

Obediently, McEwen turn to the yellow pages and took in the pictures of Reid and Calliope.

"Calliope Sellers. That's an interesting name," she murmured, reading and looking at the pages. "They look happy."

"They are happy. Reid's coming." Morgan pocketed the book as the young man walked into the room looking beyond exasperated.

"Calliope, you are exceptionally stubborn. Just listen to Isaac and don't do anything reckless, okay? Please, Sweetheart. Alright. Thank you. Yes, of course I'll call you when we turn in for the night. I always do. I love you too, Sweetheart. I'll talk to you later." Reid tossed Morgan's mobile back to him and went over to the giant dry erase map of Houston. "Thanks for letting me use your phone. Do we, uh, do we have any Windex? I want to start this map over. It's too messy and it's getting confusing."

"If you erase it will you be able to put it back together?" Morgan asked, sliding the spray bottle across the table to him. Reid turned and stared at him like he was an idiot. "Sorry. Stupid question, I know. Is Cal ok?"

"She's fine. Just being obstinate like usual. She wants to go paint in Shenandoah without Isaac or Eli and they won't let her."

"With good reason," Morgan snorted.

"I know, right?" He laughed as he wiped the board clean. "That's what I told her, so she's mad at me. I think she was hoping I'd say it was all right and she could use that as leverage against Isaac. Not that Isaac would have let her go by herself no matter what I said."

"If there's one person on earth that that girl can't push around, it's Isaac."

"Hey, I'd like to think I have a relatively decent backbone when it comes to Calliope." Reid began filling in the map again, neater and more precisely then it had been before.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Spence. She turns on the puppy dog eyes and you melt like a stick of butter in a microwave," J.J. smiled as she walked back to them.

"Jeeze, thanks for the faith, guys. Hey… I think… No, wait. Nevermind."

"What do you see, Reid?"

"I didn't see it before because so many people had been putting things on the board. But now… redoing it – I think I'm beginning to see a pattern. J.J. – the magnets. The ones with the strings."

"These?"

"No. The other ones. Yes. Thanks. Okay, so Thomas Fuller lived here, worked here, and was dumped here." Reid stuck the magnets to the board, pulling the string taut between them. "Aaron Michaels lived here, worked here, and was dumped here." Reid set up a second set of string magnets and moved on to the third and fourth without stopping. "Jeff Harris lived here, worked here and was dumped here and Mitchell Watts lived here, worked here and was dumped here."

Reid moved backwards to take in the full map, apologizing when he bumped into Detective McEwen. "All of the victims work in downtown Houston within a mile of the Texas Commerce Tower. No, that's not what it's called anymore. It's um… um… JPMorgan Chase Tower! That's it. Anyways. None of the victims live in Houston though. They all live in Katy. It's a suburb thirty minutes from here."

"Yeah, we knew that, Reid."

"Shut up and listen for a minute, Morgan. I'm not finished. When Hotch and I talked to their wives, they all said they chose to live in Katy so that their children could go to school in Katy ISD."

"Yes. I don't blame them," McEwen said. "Katy ISD's one of the best. If they could afford the tax bracket, anyone with half a brain would live in Katy to keep their kids away from Houston or Alief ISD."

"Exactly. The district enrolls approximately fifty thousand students. Most of the high schools used to be Blue Ribbon National Schools, but now only Cinco Ranch High School is. The district is labeled 'Recognized' by the Texas Education Agency. In two thousand seven, the Houston Chronicle rated Cinco Ranch the third best high school in the Houston area – only beat by the High School for Performing and Visual arts and YES College Preparatory. In oh-eight, it was rated nine hundred eight-fifth by Newsweek on it's top U.S. high schools list. That list encompasses private, preparatory, specialty and public in all fifty states. That's pretty accomplished for a public high school."

"Focus, Reid."

"Right, sorry. Anyways. Fuller and Harris – their children are zoned to go to Cinco Ranch. The Michaels family is zoned for Taylor High School. Those two schools are four point eight miles apart. The Watt family is zoned to Seven Lakes High School. Seven Lakes is eight point nine miles from Taylor and three point nine miles from Cinco Ranch. They all live within five miles of each other. One, two, three, four," Spencer pointed to the specific magnets.

"To get to work they all had to take I-10 from Katy into Houston – the stretch from Katy to Houston is commonly referred to as the Katy Freeway. Rush-hour traffic on the Katy Freeway is consistently rated _the worst_ in the entire nation, even with the widening of the highway to twenty-six lanes across. Twelve main lanes, four feeder lanes, and four to six HOV, high occupancy vehicle, and toll-way lanes. Knowing that, why would they bother driving in that traffic every day to get to work? Houston doesn't have subways like we have – they can't build underground because it's too close to sea level. But they do have the Metro. They call it, um…"

"The Park and Ride," McEwen supplied.

"Thank you. The Metro has the Park and Ride set up in Katy and it would take them from Katy to either the Central Business District in downtown or the uptown/Galleria area, depending on the bus. Why would they bother driving? They can just get a Metro card or even pay with cash and they park in the parking lot on Kingsland, hop on the bus and then do the reverse to get home."

"How many people take the Park and Ride from Katy to Houston every day?" J.J. asked.

"Hundreds."

"Hello my lovely J.J. Are we gonna give these boys some action to be jealous of?" Garcías voice filtered through the speaker of the mobile J.J. had flipped open.

"How about I time you and we'll just see how it goes."

"Be still my heart! Someone has been taking lessons from Sir Morgan. What can I do ya for?"

"Our victims. Can you see if they have Metro Q cards and, if they do, how often they use them?"

"Oh, that's just downright boring. You know I can. In fact, I'm already done. All four men have one of those fancy, shcmancy cards and they used them every workday. Oh. But get this, my sweet knights, all of the victims scanned into the Kingsland Park and Ride Monday through Friday between seven and seven thirty a.m. and scanned out between five and five thirty p.m.

"As far as I can see, they've had this pattern as long as they've had the cards – for years and years and years. My scroll bar keeps getting smaller because the transactions won't stop accumulating. Do you need a specific time or can I x-out of this and make my computer stop spinning before I get all dizzy and puke-y and fall-out-of-my-chair-y."

"You can x-out, García. Thanks. Stay on the line though. Take a look at this. The dumpsites… they just don't add up. These men, they work in nice areas – downtown Houston – and they live in an affluent neighbourhood with a high tax bracket. I mean, these men aren't _rich_ per say, but they certainly are well off. None of these families would have been clipping coupons."

"Correct-o-mundo, Boy Genius. They'll never be Bill Gates rich, but they're doing better off then any of us, besides Rossi, of course. We have some minor debt going on, but that's mostly wrapped up in mortgages and car loans; Fuller has a student loan that was taken out so his eldest could attend University of Texas – Austin. Oh, poor thing, she's scheduled to graduate cum laude this December. But all of the families make regular payments on these things. I can't see one missed payment or anything.

"Everything I see on my end looks like these families were just plain ole good, upstanding members of society. Up to date on all their taxes, donate regularly to charities, no debt, like I said. All but the Harris' were saving most of their income. The Harris' spent more than the others, but not more than they brought in. All eight parents have – had – good life insurance plans, 401-Ks, retirement plans. There are college funds for all the children."

"García, can you get me a list of the bus drivers that have driven those four over the past, let's go with six months for now, we'll widen it if we have to later. And a list of all the men who ride the Metro on a regular basis at the same time frame as our victims. So between seven and seven thirty a.m. and five and five thirty p.m."

"You'll have it as fast as my capacities make it possible, Ricky Ricardo. Ethel out."

Derek started laughing as he flipped his phone open. "Reid, Cal says 'String Bean, you're a jerkface and I'm piling the shoes.'"

"Great," Reid sighed in annoyance and rolled his eyes. "Just ignore her, Morgan. She's just angry that she can't paint in Shenandoah. We'll have a shouting match when I get home and it'll blow over eventually."

"Shoes?" McEwen turned to J.J. in confusion.

"It's hard to explain."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"I still don't get this dumpsite yet. It really just doesn't fit with everything else in the profile," Reid told them, frustrated, as he sat in front of the board.

"Let's go grab some dinner, guys," Morgan suggested, pushing himself up. "We need a break. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm not seeing anything new. Let's take a break, grab some dinner, and then come back with fresh eyes for a bit before calling it a night."

"Best suggestion anybody's had all day," J.J. agreed. "I heard there's a good Chinese place down the street."

"Ugh, that sounds great. I'm starving," Emily smiled. The six agents stood up in unison, each organizing the papers in front of them before turning to leave.

"I'll be out in a second, okay? I'm just going to call Calliope and make sure we're alright," Reid said, unplugging his phone from the charger as the others nodded and walked towards the parking lot. ""

"_Hi! Calliope's answering machine is broken – this is her refrigerator! Please speak slowly and I'll stick your message to myself with one of these awesome glitter magnets. Oh! Oh! Or her epic new sushi magnets…"_

Trying not to feel too disappointed, Reid left a brief message before punching in the house number. He sighed in a mix of unhappiness and aggravation when it went from ringing to their answering machine.

"_Hi! You've reached Dr. Spencer Reid and Calliope Sellers. We're either not here or just don't want to answer the phone. So, leave a message and we'll give serious consideration to whether or not we'll call you back. Ciao!"_

"Hey, Sweetheart. We're, uh, we're taking a break and going to go get some dinner. I just wanted to call and check in. I know you're angry with me and I'm sorry, but this is how it has to be until Foyet's caught. I promise you, we'll catch him and I'll make all this up to you. I love you, Calliope. I'll talk to you later." Reid closed the phone and slipped it into his pocket before pushing himself up. "Oh, jeeze, Hotch. You scared me."

"I forgot the keys. No answer?"

"No. She's still angry."

"You'll get through it, Reid. She knows you're just trying to protect her," Hotch assured him as he matched his pace to Reids'. "Callie's tough. She'll be alright. You know, I made the same promise to Haley: we'd catch Foyet and I'd spend the rest of my life making it up to her."

Reid smiled ruefully as they caught up to their friends.

"The restaurants three blocks left, two right and then –"

"Just give us the address, Morgan. I don't feel like _vibing_ it tonight," Rossi grumbled, getting irritable with hunger.

"Someone needs a nap," Emily teased with a wide smile across her face.

Slipping into easy banter, the team climbed into two SUVs and Reid was just about the close the door behind him when Detective McEwen ran out of the precinct yelling his name. Reid looked up, startled, and stared at her in confusion.

"Good God, is this woman ever going to give it a rest?" Morgan mumbled to himself, shifting back into park, as he watched Reid get out the other SUV.

"What?"

"McEwen's got the hots for Reid," he explained as he, J.J. and Emily unbuckled and climbed out of the SUV.

"That does not look like 'hots,'" Emily commented when they saw Reid read the piece of paper the detective had given him and paled, dropping it and grabbing onto he door to stay upright, pulling his phone from his pocket. Hotch picked up the dropped paper and read through before handing it to Rossi, his lips tight and hands clenched.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up…" Reid muttered frantically, dialing a new number as soon as one gave way to voicemail.

"You should have made a deal," J.J. read aloud when Rossi handed the paper to her. "The twit was too easy. The two oafs protecting her were laughable."

"Damnit." Reid typed in a new number. "Melanie! Yes, Dr. Reid. Has Calliope been in today? She taught two classes? When? Yes. When did she leave? Two o'clock. That was five hours ago. Are you absolutely sure she hasn't been back since? Okay. Thank you."

"It was barely even a challenge. Playing with her was a real treat once I got rid of the oafs. The boys were right. There's nothing quite like a redhead. Feisty little things. Don't worry, Dr. Reid, I was merciful in the end and, look at it this way: you'll never fight with her again. You should have made a deal. How much more before you believe me, Agent Hotchner?"

"Son of a bitch. García, no. No flirting now. I need a trace on a fax. I need to know where the face was sent from. 2375491120. Are you sure? Damn. Guys, the fax was sent from the Kinko's down the street from The Hobbit Hole."

"Eli and Issac aren't picking up their phones," Reid said, shaking slightly in an attempt to remain calm.

"García, you're on speaker."

"_What's going on?"_

"Foyet might have Callie," Rossi told her as the team stormed back into the precinct, dinner long forgotten, and there was a pause on the other end of the line before a loud crash and some frantic movement.

"_Nuh-uh. That scumbag is not getting Luce. Hacking into the Kinko's surveillance cameras as we… Oh God. I can see him. He's leaving the Kinko's right now walking down Caroline Street towards the Hole. I'm calling everybody. Hello. This is FBI Technical Analyst Penelope García in Quantico. I have eyes on George Foyet, the Boston Reaper, walking out of the Kinko's at 12601 Caroline Street, going north. No. He's murdered thirty-four people. Definitely consider him armed and extremely dangerous. Thank you. I'm going to put you on hold. Just a second. Um, Crime Fighters, I can't find Luce's phone, Eli's phone or Isaac's phone. They've been turned off."_

_

* * *

_**A/N:**

**Thank you so much for reading!! I really hope you like it. :)**

**A few more days until a new Criminal Minds! Who else is ready because I TOTALLY am!**

**I LOVE when the Olympics are on. Especially the hockey (GO TEAM CANADA!!) and short track speedskating (GO TEAM USA!). I have a hard time with the Olympics because I'm half American, half Canadian so I'm torn in two directions. Though, I am whole heartedly Team Canada for hockey and Team USA for speedskating and snowboarding. haha I can't not be a Canadian Hockey fan. Because my family would find a way to get to Tejas and murder me. It'd be a bloody mess. haha**

**Anyways... Thanks for reading, I hope you like it, and please tell me what you think, good or bad! I love you all!**

**Love, Thalia**


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Demoralize the enemy from within by surprise, terror, sabotage, assassination. This is the war of the future." – Adolf Hitler _

o o o o

14 October, 2009

Reid sat in a state of stunned shock. He felt as though he had been paused and everyone around him was in fast-forward. Blinking rapidly a few times, he dropped his head into his hands and took a several deep breaths. He needed to pull himself together, not for himself, but for her. They had no proof Calliope wasn't alive and Reid was clinging to that fact, that thin strand of hope, with everything in him.

There were times when Reid could not be thankful enough for how quickly and efficiently his mind functioned and this was certainly one of them. Even as he had sat paused, his mind had been processing the whir of information circulating around him.

"García." The entire team silenced and looked at him when he spoke for the first time since he spoken to the poor, confused Hobbit Hole employee on the phone in the parking lot. "If I give you the password, can you hack into the security cameras at the house?"

_ "Normally, I wouldn't even need the password, Reid, but the system at your house isn't hooked up to the Internet."_

"What do you mean?"

_ "I mean that your entire security system is completely remote – it's self contained. You and Calliope have two computer structures: a regular one that you guys actually use and is hooked up to your wireless and the second one that your security cameras, etc. are on. That system has no access to the Internet at all. Calliope had the routers removed from the main computer and the cameras. That's why you have wires. They run through the walls and underground to Luce's office where the main system is."_

"So you have to be on the premises or have the files to go over it."

_ "Exactly. It's a pretty smart move under normal circumstances – no one can hack into it. That's what happened with the security cameras in NYC when were we working with Agent Joiner. The terrorist group hacked into system. Having the cameras self-contained with no Internet access prevents that. Unfortunately, that also means that even my prolific hacking skills are useless. However, we just got authorization for a S.W.A.T. operation and they're on their way as we speak. Text me the password. They'll access the tapes and send them to me."_

"What about the videos from The Hobbit Hole?"

_ "Those I have. I found Calliope and her shadows. It's just like Melanie said. They left at two-oh-five and haven't been back. I'm running facial recognition software on every angle I have going backwards in time to see if Scummy McScumerson has paid The Hole a visit but nothing's dinged yet."_

"I can't believe the bastard got away again," Morgan fumed, barely resisting the urge to kick the desk leg.

"I'll be right back," Rossi told the team, not waiting for an answer before walking over to where Hotch paced in a corner. "Aaron? Talk to me. You look worse than Reid."

"Was this Foyet's plan the whole time?" Hotch looked up and only from years of friendship could Rossi tell that anguished tears waited just behind the intense ferocity in Aaron Hotchner's eyes. "Make us think he was targeting me, take away Haley and Jack, just to force me to watch as he whittles away at my teams families? Could we really have been this far off?"

"It's too soon to know, Aaron."

"Should I have made the deal? This is my fault, Dave. I practically handed him Callie. How can I go over and act like this isn't my fault, like there wasn't something I could have done to prevent this from happening? I'm the reason Reid's feeling this pain. I'm the reason that the one person he loves more than anything was murdered."

"First off, we don't know that Callie's dead. You know we always, always operate on the assumption that the victim is alive unless we have concrete evidence telling us they aren't. Callie is alive until we know otherwise. And second, this isn't your fault. Reid isn't hurting because of you; he's hurting because George Foyet is one sick son of a bitch."

"I could have stopped this," Hotch reiterated. "He gave me the chance and I hung up on him."

"If you're going to continue to throw yourself a pity party, Aaron, take it somewhere else. But what would Callie say if she heard you talking like this?"

"'A deal with the devil's a double edged sword.' I know."

"Well, yes, but I was thinking more along the lines of 'You're the best in the world. You'll catch him. I know you will.' I've heard her say that more times than I can remember. If she believes in us, what right do we have to doubt?"

"You're right. Do we have anything new?" Hotch swiped a hand across his eyes and composed himself, not that a stranger would have even known he was anything other than composed. The problem lay in the fact that the five people in the room were as far from strangers as it was possible to be and they knew him better than any other people in the world.

"Not yet. We got approval for S.W.A.T. though. They'll be going over to Reid's house."

"They won't be going through us, will they?"

"No. Since we aren't there, S.W.A.T.'s reporting to Fredericksburg P.D."

"We have to make sure no information slips through the cracks."

Rossi nodded in agreement and they walked back to the table their team surrounded. Prentiss chewed on her bottom lip, unaware that she was doing it. Morgan stood with his hands jammed in his pockets, not bothering to conceal boiling rage. J.J. twisted the birthstone ring on her right ring finger, pacing slightly. Reid sat, oddly focused, as they listened to García try to explain to the police how to get to the house.

"Here," Reid cut in for before García could explode from exasperation. "Go south on Lee Drive for eight tenths of a mile. On your right there's going to be a no-outlet service road, Dahlia Road. It's gated. You can't go through the gate or down that road – there are cameras and when the gate moves with or without the code, it sends an alarm to the house so Foyet would know you're there. The only way in without letting Foyet know is hidden around back. You'll have to walk through the woods to get to it."

"It sounds like we just walked into an Indiana Jones movie," Rossi commented to Hotch.

"I have a feeling this plot will be deeper and better thought out than Indiana Jones," Aaron looked at the older man, his lips pulled into a tight line.

"No, those are the coordinates for where a stone bench is." Reid explained, massaging his temple.

_"Why do we need a stone bench?"_

"Because on the underside of the bench is a keypad. Type the code into the keypad and –"

_ "Are you trying to mess with us?"_

"No, I'm not trying to mess with you. I'm trying to tell you how to get into my house without letting The Reaper know you're coming. Type in the code into the keypad under the bench and the cameras will shut off but the system will continue streaming a paused feed to the house while the clock keeps running. Type in the shorter code twice and the gate alarm will cut out. Only after you do that can you go through the gate and up Dahlia Road."

"Toto, we aren't in Kansas anymore," J.J. said quietly as she stopped to stand between Rossi and Hotch. "Welcome to the life of the freakishly wealthy."

"Was that all put in place because of Foyet?" Rossi wondered, not actually directing the question at the person, but Reid looked up from the speakerphone he was talking into and silently shook his head 'no.'

"Life as an heiress seems a helluva lot more complicated than I'd be willing to deal with," Emily stated honestly, taking a sip of her coffee.

"No joke." J.J. agreed, lowering her voice before she spoke again. "What's going to happen if… if when we find…"

"Why are all of you thinking the worst?" Rossi asked, looking at her. "We have no evidence."

"Reid won't recover from this if Calliope…" Emily started, unable to finish the thought.

"Can we please stop talking about Cal like she's already dead?" Morgan asked in the same hushed tone the others used. "We'll find her and get her back. Safely."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"What the hell's taking so long?" Morgan muttered, pacing. Looking up from the floor he was walking a rut in to, he studied his brother as he sat tensely next to the phone, the ice pack that was supposed to be on his knee had fallen to the floor and Morgan was sure the younger man hadn't even noticed. Reid's face still sported the sickly pale colour it had turned when he first read the paralyzing fax. Morgan hated, absolutely hated, being forced to sit and wait for something to happen.

_ "Guys, I just got an email from Foyet."_ Garcías wavering voice came over the speakerphone that had been silent for a while now.

"What does it say?" Reid asked, sitting straighter.

_ "It has a picture of Calliope, Eli and Isaac. It's candid. He must have taken it with surveillance, because they have no idea the picture's being taken."_

"What does it say, García?" Reid asked again.

"_It says 'Dr. Reid, you should remember her like this. I'll – I'll remember her the way I left her. A-agent Hotchner, use your imagination. You're wife is next.'"_

"Are you sure it's not an old picture?"

"_Positive. It had to have been taken today because she's wearing the purple and blue cardigan that she bought on Monday when we were shopping and she it spent the last two days at the tailors because it was too big for her. I was talking to her when she picked it up this morning."_

"Does it have a picture of… of Calliope de – of what he did?" Reid barely managed to ask, his throat tight.

_ "I… she… there's not a picture of her dead."_

"What is there a picture of?" Rossi asked in a no-nonsense tone.

_ "Feet and arms."_

"Detached?" Hotch asked, alarmed.

_ "No! No, no. The photos are taken so all you can see are feet and arms. Three pictures of black male arms – one in each picture – and one picture of a white female's arm. There's a bit of red hair at the edge of the picture. Three pictures of feet – one pair in each picture."_

"What aren't you telling us, Angel?" Morgan could tell there was something she was hiding from them.

_ "There's blood everywhere."_

"Can you see any lacerations? Are the arms and legs cut up or is the blood coming from somewhere else?"

_ "With the amount of blood, there's no way its all came from the cuts."_

"Can you track the e-mail, García?" Emily looked hopefully for a minute.

_ "I already did. He sent it with time delay from the Kinkos. He paid with cash. He's good, guys. I hacked into the email address he used, but he made it from the Kinkos and I doubt he's ever going to use the address again."_

"Damn. Do you have anything good, García?" Morgan sighed.

_ "S.W.A.T. got the cameras turned off and are in the house?"_

"How long have they been in there?"

_ "About twenty minutes. I just got the files."_

"Why the hell didn't they tell us they got there?" Hotch demanded angrily.

"What did they find, García?" Reid ask, his voice wavering only slightly.

_ "Nothing. They literally found nothing. The house was empty, nothing looked out of place, no sign of any sort of disturbance. It just looks like they left. Nobody's been here who wasn't supposed to be here. But S.W.A.T. is doing a thorough search of the grounds just in case."_

"García, send us the e-mail Foyet sent you," Rossi requested.

_ "Already did. I also got a hit on the tapes from The Hobbit Hole. Foyet was there, but it was four weeks ago. September twenty second. He was there while Luce was there. Why didn't he snatch her then?"_

"Because we weren't away," Reid told her, his mind processing.

_ "What?"_

"We weren't on a case then. Tuesday September 22nd. We had just gotten back from Oklahoma City with the enucleator case. We had the day off. We were in Virginia: I was at home. Two and a half miles from her."

"Why would that matter though?" Emily asked, her forehead wrinkled.

"He has more control when we aren't physically there," Hotch explained. "He has us stuck in a police department fifteen hundred miles –"

"One thousand three hundred and sixty-one miles," Reid interjected, distractedly.

"– away from everything that's going on. He has more control because we can't be on the scene, we can't be actively looking for Callie. We're forced to wait for other people to tell us what they find. This provides him with optimal power and chance for manipulation."

"It makes it more _fun_ for him," Rossi spat distastefully.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"It's ten thirty; that means it's eleven thirty in Virginia. He's had her for at least four and a half hours, if not more," Morgan exhaled, rubbing the back of his head. "And all we have is a taunting fax and e-mail that both lead to dead ends. We can't even be sure these pictures are real. I can't tell if these are Cal's feet or if this is her arm, much less if those belong to Eli or Isaac. I mean, the hair colour matches Cal, but what does that really prove? Not even Reid was sure if it's Cal. The only picture we know for sure is Cal is that one and there is no indication that any of them are in any danger. Hell, they're laughing. Based on the shadow, I'd say it was taken… probably around two after she finished her class. García said she left at five after two."

"This was taken on Caroline Street," J.J. said pointing at the picture. "They must have been right outside The Hobbit Hole. You can see the edge of the Avery Ballet sign. That's right next door!"

"So, what? He takes the pictures, loads them to the computer in Kinkos and –"

_"Ahnt."_ Garcia made a buzzer sound through the phone and cut Rossi off. _"Sadly, Se__ñ__or Foyet is far more advanced than that. If he loaded the pictures or transferred them or downloaded them, I'd be able to trace him. But the bastard's smart. I hate it when they have brains. He scanned the pictures in. He already had them printed. He scanned them in, edited it down so there was no white space around the pictures, and then sent it. I'm still trying to figure out how he got it to time-delay send. As far as I can tell right now, it's a virus that erases itself once it does its job. I'm still working on it though. I'm taking a bathroom break. BRB."_

"We have a house that has quite obviously not be visited. S.W.A.T. found nothing in the house, around the house, or on the entire property. Foyet was never there. Not even Foyet could have gotten through all the security on their property without leaving anything behind." Emily continued, picking up a few of the surveillance still shots of the house.

"So that means he must have grabbed her while they were out. Which car was missing?" Hotch asked.

"Eli's. Black 2006 Dodge RAM 2500. License plate number V8K J97." Morgan told him, handing him the picture of the truck.

"We have a B.O.L.O. out on it, correct?"

"Since S.W.A.T. determined it was the only one not in the garage. Two – three hours now."

Reid walked back into the room with a cup of coffee in the hand not holding the one crutch. "All three phones have been turned off, so he either has them with him and he doesn't want us to be able to track him through the phones or he's not with them and he doesn't want us to find them."

"He could have dumped the phones," Morgan suggested. "That'd be the first thing I'd do. Hide the truck, toss the phones, overpower the two that pose the most threat and then get them somewhere I have complete control over them and no one would find them."

Nodding in agreement, Reid sat down and, as he was settling himself down, several loud beeps filtered through the speaker.

"García? What was that?" Morgan asked, but García gave no response. "Probably still in the bathroom."

"Basically, we have nothing until Foyet makes another move," J.J. muttered.

"Guys, you should all go back to the hotel," Reid said, looking up at them. "Go get some sleep."

"Reid, we aren't going anywhere," Morgan told him firmly. "Not until we get Cal back. We're staying right here."

"You need sleep."

"So do you, Spence. But you're not getting any until you know she's safe. Why would you think we would?"

"Calliope's my girlfriend, she's not your –"

"She's our friend, Reid." Emily stared at him. "Come on. You seriously think she doesn't mean anything to us just because we're not the one dating her?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Reid sighed, fishing his buzzing phone out of his pocket. "G-guys… Foyet's calling."

"What?" Morgan looked up in alarm and the other agents around the table turned to stare at him.

"He's using Calliope's phone.

"Spence, keep your voice calm. Don't show him any fear, that's what he gets off on. Don't let him know what he's done to us."

"_Superfriends, Calliope's phone has been turned back on."_ Garcías' voice came back through the line.

"We know. Foyet's calling."

"_Oh God, I'm setting the trace. Give me a minute. When you answer, keep him talking. I don't have it set up yet."_

"Humanize Calliope and –"

"J.J., I know what to do."

"Then why are you getting agitated?"

"Because you're treating me like an incompetent imbecile who hasn't heard you give this same lecture at least a seventy-five times. García, are you almost ready?" At the woman's positive response, Reid picked up the phone and hit the speaker button, years of doing this job the only thing keeping his voice steady. "Reid here."

_ "Why the hell was I attacked by twenty SWAT members when I opened the door to, you know, our fucking house?!"_

"Calliope?" Reid's voice cracked as if he hadn't gone through puberty and he stared at the phone in surprise.

_ "Of course it's Calliope, you dingbat! Who were you expecting? Ray Charles? I can't play the piano, I sing like shit, I'm not black and he's dead, so, no, Spencer, this is not Ray Charles!"_

"Are you okay?" Reid asked, his mind racing.

_ "No, I'm not okay! I'm in the goddamned hospital. You know why? Because two ginormous S.W.A.T. agents fucking tackled me for entering my own home! They knocked my Michaelangelo, da Vinci and Raphael off the wall! There is glass all over! If anything happened to those line drawings, I swear to God, I __will__ kill you."_

"What'd the doctors say?"

_ "It's broken!"_

"What's broken?"

_ "My wrist! My wrist is fucking broken! My painting wrist, Spencer! I now have a cast and, even though I got to pick a pretty colour and all that jazz, it doesn't change the fact that my painting wrist is about to be encased in plaster! You know what this means for you? A very unhappy home life until I can paint again!" _The furious voice became distant for a second as she turned her attention on some poor, unsuspecting hospital employee who had no idea the hurricane of rage she walked into._ "I know I'm in a hospital! I know I'm not supposed to be on my cell phone. I'm a billionairess! I'll make a goddamn donation and you'll build a new wing and we'll name it 'Calliope was on a cell phone and we got a new wing!' Get out!"_

"Calliope. Sweetheart, what about – what did Foyet do? How did you… where's Eli and Isaac? Are they okay?"

_"Foyet? Spencer, what are you talking about?"_ Calliope snapped at him, too enraged to be curious. _"I've never seen Foyet. We get home from the movies and all hell breaks loose. Isaac's fine. Eli's going to be fine. The doctors stitched him up and he's all right. They fucking shot him! S.W.A.T. shot my cousin for no fucking reason! There's a bullet hole in our wall! Oh my god… if there's a bullet hole through my drawings, I will kill you with my bare hands. I swear to God, Spencer. Why the hell was S.W.A.T. at our house anyway, Spencer?"_

"You've never seen Foyet?" Reid asked, confused.

_ "Well, I've seen the mug shot. You know that. Answer my question. Why were twenty S.W.A.T. agents at our house, why was I tackled, why was Eli shot and why are you about five inches from me strangling you?"_

"Sweetheart, Foyet sent us a fax saying he'd murdered you, Isaac and Eli four hours ago. Then we couldn't get a hold of any of you and García couldn't trace your phones. We deployed SWAT to the house to try and find out what happened, to see if you were there, if he had…"

_ "Oh God, String Bean… Our phones were off because we were in the movie theater. I dragged them to go see the Toy Story 3-D Double Feature thing. I'm yelling at you about a broken wrist and you thought I was dead. Why didn't you tell me to shut up? Hmmm… that was quite possibly the stupidest question I have ever asked in my entire life. Like that would have worked. What was I thinking? Never mind. Forget I just asked the world's dumbest question."_

Reid exhaled heavily and put his head in the hand not holding his phone, resting his elbow on the table and not bothering to attempt to stop the tears of relief from slipping out of his closed eyes. Rossi dropped a hand on the young mans' shoulder and squeezed. Morgan and Hotch were walking out of the room into the main area of the precinct, yelling at the Fredericksburg P.D. and S.W.A.T. officers respectively for not telling them when the trio had come home.

_ "They've come in to plaster my arm, String Bean. I love you, Spencer. So much. I'll call you after they're done."_

"Okay. I love you too, Calliope." Reid hung up the phone and scrubbed his face with his hands. "He never had her," he croaked. "He tricked us. He was watching them, watching us. He couldn't get to her, so he waited until he knew they would all turn their phones off and García wouldn't be able to trace them. Then he sent the fax exactly when he knew we'd be panicked for a good five hours before she just reappeared."

"Power. Control. Manipulation." Rossi ticked the words off. "That's what Foyet's all about. 'Look what I can do to you without lifting a finger.'"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The team stood outside the hotel, waiting impatiently, as their watches moved closer and closer to one o'clock in the morning. Spencer was fidgeting incessantly, but no one made any mention of him settling down. They were all just as anxious as the black sedan pulled to a stop several yards away.

"Oh, thank God," Spencer breathed as he watched Calliope shuffle out of the car. She offered a shy wave of her newly purple-plastered arm when she saw them and Spencer rolled his eyes. "Get over here, goof."

Calliope smiled widely and ran to him, colliding with such force that she dislodged his crutch, knocking it to the cement. As soon as he had his arms around her, nothing else registered in his mind. Spencer buried his face in her hair and inhaled the reassuring kiwi scent of her shampoo.

"I'm so sorry, Spencer," her whisper was muffed by the blue wool of his jacket.

"Just don't ever, ever turn off your phone again," he commanded gently, his voice firm as he pulled back to look at her. "Put it on vibrate or silent or something. Scared me to death."

"Yes sir," she smiled, pushing herself up on her toes and pulling his head down to hers. Spencer closed his eyes as his lips met hers briefly before had to motion for the crutch that lay forgotten on the floor. "Hmmm… it'd probably be a good idea if I gave you something to support yourself with, huh?"

Once Spencer had the crutch under his arm, Calliope felt strong hands on her shoulders and was physically turned around until she came face to face with Derek. "I'm putting you in a box with a padlock."

"Can I at least have air holes?"

"One."

"Can it be a big one?"

"No."

"Well, I tried," she laughed as he pulled her in and hugged her.

"Okay, let's all get some sleep. Maybe we can meet back at nine instead of eight," Hotch said after J.J. and Emily had given Calliope hugs as well. Morgan nodded in agreement, giving his approval, and the group started shuffling inside. "Callie, I'm glad you're not missing. I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm glad I'm not missing too, Aaron. I spend enough time looking for things I've lost; I don't wanna add myself to the list. I'd have to put up flyers and everything. It'd be a disaster."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"I love you," Spencer said softly as Calliope rolled onto her side away from the alarm clock.

"I love you too," she smiled, kissing him.

"I've never been as terrified as I was today, Calliope," he admitted, resting his forehead against hers. "I don't know what I would have done if anything had happened to you. You mean the –"

"Shhh… Spencer. I'm here. Nothing happened to me that six weeks in a cast won't fix."

"I'm sorry about your wrist."

"Eh… it makes a good story. I'm sorry I verbally assaulted you… every day for the past week. Hmmm…"

Spencer laughed and pulled her tightly against him. Ducking his head slightly he caught her lips with his and cupped his hand behind her neck. Calliope made a small sound and he felt her fingers attack the buttons on his shirt. "Sweetheart, we don't have to. I can wait."

"Maybe you can wait, but I'm tired of waiting," she murmured, not breaking their kiss.

"You just broke your wrist. You have a cast, albeit a very pretty purple cast."

"And you have a gimp leg. We're even. If we wait any longer, we'll both be in body casts and we'll have to wait forever. Then I'll explode because my ability to be patient is non-existent and you know it." Laughing, Spencer let her tug off his shirt and he kissed her, finally letting his hands venture under her cloth of tank top. "You're going to have to be a little more adventurous than that, String Bean, or we're going to be here for a while."

"Being here for a while is exactly what I have planned, Sweetheart," he smiled at her, kissing her as he leaned over her.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Thank you for reading my baby!! I love you all! I really hope you liked it!**

**OH MY GOD. Did yall see last nights episode _Mosley Lane_? OHHHHH MY GOD. It totally and completely creeped me the heck out! But I loved it! I love Matthew Gray Gubler and his directing abilities. BrilliantDarkness and I already talked about it and, like I told her, I love the line at the end where Reid said "This is as close to a miracle as I've ever seen." Great, great line. Ugh! Loved it.**

**Anyways... Thanks for reading, I hope you like it, I love yall, and please tell me what you think, good or bad! I love you all!**

**Ohhh, All the places mentioned are real places. Except The Hobbit Hole, obviously I made that one up. And I moved the Kinkos from Amos Street to Caroline Street because it was better for the story. And Lee Drive totally exists and it's perfect for what I wanted, but Dahlia Road, the service road, is also a figment of my imagination. :)**

**Love, Thalia**

**P.S. I have a little Hotch one-shot thingie going on and I dunno how I feel about it. :/ hahaha **


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"'_All the same,' said the Scarecrow, 'I shall ask for brains instead of a heart; for a fool would not know what to do with a heart if he had one.' 'I shall take the heart,' returned the Tin Woodman; 'for brains do not make one happy, and happiness is the best thing in the world." – L. Frank Baum_

o o o o

15 October, 2010

Surprised, Calliope found herself awake before Spencer for the first time and finally understood what he meant when he said he loved watching her sleep. He looked so relaxed and peaceful.

His face was calm and no furrowed wrinkles marred his forehead where they so often appeared when he worked. She smiled at how innocent and childlike he looked; his breathing steady and even; long, wispy brown curls fell away from his face. Slight stubble covered his upper lip and strong jaw. She loved seeing him before he shaved: it made her smile. Spencer always looked so scholarly and put together that seeing him looking anything less, seeing him scruffy and unkempt in any degree, provoked a smile and giggles.

Calliope closed her eyes again knowing that, as soon as he woke up, he would leave her and this blissful cocoon she had willingly shrouded herself in for the past five hours would end. She would never tell Spencer exactly how miserable she had been since Foyet bulldozed his way into their lives last May; he knew she was unhappy with the situation, but not to the full extent.

Yes, there had been the occasional spurts of happiness, but they'd always been followed by bleakness. She loved her cousins, but she wanted her life back. She wanted to be able to walk to the grocery store by herself, to teach a class without them sitting in the back of the room, to eat McDonalds for lunch and dinner without being scolded for being unhealthy, to be able to cuddle on the couch with her boyfriend without feeling awkward in front of Eli and Isaac. Most of all, she wanted Haley back.

Haley. The second secret she kept from Spencer. Calliope felt guilty about not telling him about their lunch dates and phone calls, but having him find out about her insecurities, about how much she needed to talk to someone who understood was the last thing she wanted. Her String Bean already harboured such intense overprotectiveness towards her, if he knew she needed help dealing with his job, that he caused her pain, he would never forgive himself. She didn't need to be a behavioral analyst to figure that out.

Calliope had tried talking to her other friends and family since Haley and Jack went into the Marshall service. She exchanged emails with Jillian Ackerman, her best friend since kindergarten, but their lives couldn't have been farther from each other now – actively and geographically. Jill and her husband were stationed in Uganda with the Peace Corps and Calliope last saw her seventeen months ago, three months before she began dating Spencer. Jill tried to understand, but Calliope didn't blame her when she couldn't – their problems were so drastically different now. Her cousins Ashanti and Breelyn, Eli and Isaacs' sisters, both listened and offered sympathy, but were essentially clueless. Talking to Mammy proved the exact opposite of what she needed as Mammy's only solution was to break up with 'that terrible man,' 'move on' and find someone 'suitable' – completely counterproductive. There was no 'moving on' from Spencer.

Opening her eyes again, Calliope studied him, unable to keep her smile from spreading as she looked at him. She loved him; this wonderful man lying asleep next to her filled every crevasse of her heart. He was her home, as cliché as it sounded. It didn't matter where she was – if he was next to her, she felt safe and loved and _free_ in a way she never felt before. Mammy couldn't be more wrong. Spencer Reid was more than suitable for her; he was perfect, exactly what she needed, what she wanted.

She sighed softly and, unable to resist any longer, moved closer to Spencer, slipping back against him to lay her head on his chest. She liked the way his arms instinctively closed around her, the way his hand felt on her waist, laying laxly in a subconscious way of keeping her close. Calliope bit her lip to keep from laughing when he mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep and she relaxed against him, happily letting her mind trail back to several hours ago.

"Good morning, Sweetheart," his quite, sleepy voice made her jump slightly a half hour later and she blushed furiously at being caught thinking about exploring hands, lingering kisses, the silky way his skin felt against hers.

"Morning," she whispered, ducking her head so he couldn't see her red face.

"What time is it?" He asked, kissing her hair.

"Six thirty."

"I can't believe you woke up before me, much less at six in the morning," Spencer teased, absently running his hand over her back. "I don't think that's ever happened before."

"Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything, String Bean."

"It's been a morning of firsts," he smiled and kissed her, his hand moving from her back to support the nap of her neck as he molded his lips to hers. Calliope made a small, needy sound against his mouth and Spencer grinned, rolling her over onto her back in a rush of confidence he had with no one but her.

"Insatiable much, Dr. Reid?" she giggled, burying her non-plastered hand in his hair and kissing along his jaw.

"Only when it comes to you, my muse."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"What's with the second crutch? I thought you'd graduated to only needing one," Morgan commented as he pressed the lobby button, effectively closing the elevator door on the two of them.

"My knee's just hurting a lot more. It must have flared up."

"How could it have flared up? You spent the entire day at the precinct yesterday and you kept the ice pack on for most of it. It's not like you were out chasing…" A huge smile spread across Morgans' face as the reason dawned on him. He didn't say anything, simply smiled like a clown and gave Reid a few hearty pats on the back.

"Shut up, Morgan."

"I didn't say anything."

"I know what you're thinking."

"I'm sure you do, Kid."

Reid scowled when Morgan ruffled his hair and he pulled his head away, smoothing his hair back down the best he could. Morgan chuckled with his goofy grin still splashed on his face as the elevator leveled in the lobby. The doors slid open and Reid hobbled out into the foyer of the hotel as quickly as he could, physically putting distance between the two of them. Walking out after the embarrassed young genius, Morgan couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

"It's about time, Pretty Boy. It's about damn time."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope slipped her feet into the brown leather boots, smoothed her tie-died sundress and stood up, looking at herself in the mirror as she quickly twisted her hair into two loose, curly braids that stopped at her waist. As she tied the second braid off with a rubber band, she played with the tip, debating if she should cut her hair. She had always had long hair, but it had never been quite this long before.

Holding her hair up, she tried to imagine what she would look like without this insane mass of hair trailing around her. She played with it for a couple of minutes, raising and lowering the hair so that the tips of the braids ended at different points, her chin, her shoulders, mid back. She held the edges higher, back at her chin, and laughed at the way the top of the braids poofed out.

"I look like Cindy Lou Who. No! Pippi Longstocking!" she laughed to the empty bathroom as she pulled the braids straight out from her head. Calliope dropped them and studied her reflection, smiling at herself before scowling, "I hate my smile. It's all crooked. Why can't I smile straight?"

Not bothered in the least by the fact she spoke to thin air, she kept contorting her smile in futile attempts to turn the lopsided grin straight. She stopped after several failed contortions and just looked at herself. A small bruise was forming on her chin where she had smacked herself with the cast. Spencer, after making sure she was all right, had laughed, saying only she could knock herself out with her own arm. Calliope half-jokingly threatened to tell the team he was beating her, but she had to agree when he reminded her they would take one look and know she was lying.

"Damn those profilers. They take away all my fun," she mumbled, rubbing the brownish mark. "Should I cut my hair? To cut or not to cut, that is the ageless question. That was what Shakespeare really wanted to ask, but didn't have the balls. At least I'm not talking about my wrists. It's a good thing no one's listening as I blatantly talk crazy to myself. They'd institutionalize me in a heartbeat."

With one last look in the mirror, Calliope walked out into the hotel room and pulled her MacBook out of her polka dot computer tote and plopped herself onto the bed, lying on her stomach with her feet in the air, her boots crossed at the ankle. She pressed the power button and propped her chin on her hands, waiting patiently as the computer hummed to life.

Logging into her e-mail, she spared a glance at the sheets that Spencer had bundled up and put in the corner while she was in the shower. She could see the edge of the small bloodstain that only reaffirmed that last night had happened, she hadn't simply imagined it. Proved that, though the change couldn't be seen in the mirror no matter how hard she searched for it, she was as different physically as she felt emotionally. She blushed thinking about it before shoving the thought in the back of her mind and refocusing on the e-mail, typing out the first line.

'_What's cookin', good lookin'? Okay, so, my dearest Jill-Pill…'_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid chewed on his bottom lip, studying the map and kept spinning the dry erase marker with his fingers. It just didn't make sense. None of it made any sense. The Metro was the only thing they could find that all four men had in common, but, with no other parameters to narrow it down with, the list of men connected to the Metro went on for longer than he cared to look through. If they had to go through every single man on that list they would be in Houston for weeks.

This was frustrating. He disliked being unable to figure things out in general, but this was beyond just the case. All he wanted was go back to the hotel, slip back into bed with Calliope and talk, cuddle, watch a movie, anything as long as he had her in his arms. He could still feel the paralyzing terror coursing through his veins, feel it with the same intensity he felt when she had been unaccounted for, and, the longer it took them to solve this case, the longer it would be until he could be with her again. Logically, he knew she was safe, that Foyet couldn't hurt her, but that knowledge did nothing to soothe the unease he felt now that she was out of his sight again.

"So, Reid. You have anything?" Emily asked as she stopped next to him.

"I wish. This is just too conflicting. If he varied the dumpsites to throw us off, he's doing a damn good job of it."

"Dr. Reid. We have a fifth victim," McEwen said as she and J.J. walked briskly into the conference room. "Charles Hanson. Age fifty-three. Had a wife and three kids, sixteen, thirteen and twelve. Same M.O. – a single gunshot wound to the temple and several post-mortem shots to the chest and genitals."

"But it's morning. This unsub kills in the evening."

"Apparently he never came home. The wife, Patricia Hanson, reported him missing last night, but we didn't find out about it because she went to the Katy Police Department, not the Houston P.D.," J.J. told them.

"Damn. Three days. He's speeding up. Where'd he dump the body?"

"In a parking lot off of Old Katy Road and Sam Houston Tollway. It's a big combined parking lot. Hanson was found closest to a furniture mega-store, The Great Indoors."

Reid sighed and started putting up the newest victims' information on the board after taking the sheet McEwen had given him. "It's the same, guys. It looks like the kids are zoned to go to Taylor High School. They live off of Highland Knolls right next to Maude Marks Library and Memorial Junior High, which is probably where the youngest two attend."

"There's something different about this one," J.J. said, almost ominously.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Filling out the address card on the delivery form, Calliope laughed as her friend chattered next to her, her voice echoing along the empty gallery. Eli was posed at the front door, watching the sidewalk and the pedestrians and passersby. Isaac stood at the other end of the gallery by the emergency exit, his eyes glancing at the sculptures and paintings that decorated the sparse hall. Calliope scuffed the heel of her worn out cowboy boots on the marble tile as she listened to Allison tell her about life in Houston.

"The gallery is amazing. Working here in amazing. I love it, Calliope. I love that you're here! You should have told me you were coming. I could have taken some time off and we could have hung out."

"I didn't know I was coming," Calliope answered honestly as she awkwardly wrote on the slip with her right hand instead of her left. "Hell, I don't even know when I'm leaving."

"Here, let me do that. You dictate. I'll never be able to read it."

"Thanks," Calliope sighed as she crumpled the paper in her palm, scowling bitterly at her useless wrist. "Three-oh-two Lee Drive, Fredericksburg, Virginia, zip code two-two-four-oh-one."

"What happened?" Allison asked, gesturing at the purple plaster as she filled in the form with ease.

"You know me. I'm a complete klutz."

"Oh, that I know. Remember at Carnegie Mellon during our last year of grad school at the two-thousand-seven spring festival, you tripped over the extension cord for the Farris wheel, effectively shutting the wheel down mid-circle and knocking yourself and a popcorn stand over, only to roll all the way down the bank into the duck pond?"

"I thought we swore we'd never talk about that again."

"What are friends for if not to drudge up your embarrassing secrets?"

"Good point," Calliope laughed. "Your portion of the gallery is great, Allison. Your skill has crazy improved."

"Are you saying I was terrible?" The brunette teased as she stuck the label on the sculpture Calliope had purchased.

"You know me too well," Calliope went along with the joke. "I'm only buying this because I am utterly filled with pity for your poor, talentless soul. Don't feel too badly, though. Not everyone can be me."

Allison burst out laughing as Calliope held up her iPhone and snapped a picture of the sculpture. She tapped out a quick text and sent the picture message before pocketing the phone and turning back to her friend. "So, I'm curious. Why do you want this? It's modernist/minimalist. It's totally not your taste unless you've pulled a one-eighty since I last saw you."

"It's not for me. It's going to be a Christmas gift. I know someone who would love it. But I do appreciate it. It's beautiful. You did an amazing job. All joking aside, this is better than anything you did at CMU. Your skills have grown so much. Very, very impressive, Allison."

"Actually, I was thinking about you a few weeks ago. I was working on a sculpture and I thought it might be cool if we did a few pieces together."

"I'm not a sculptor. You know that. You've seen my pitiful attempts. And by 'pitiful' I mean absolutely horrific and should never be shown to the public or ever see the light of day. I think they've been destroyed to preserve the eyes of whoever might have accidently seen them. Like Medusa and her snake hair." Calliope raised an eyebrow, confused.

"I know, that's not what I meant. I was thinking about doing a modernist meets traditional sort of thing. A modernist/minimalist sculpture with maybe a realist or impressionist scenes painted on it."

"That… that has potential. That could be really cool if we pulled it off properly."

"I'm just trying to use you to get my name in lights," Allison joked.

"For that idea, I might just let you do it."

"Hey, I've always wondered: Why don't you sign your paintings with your name? Why do you use 'Scroll and Stylus Inc" instead of Calliope Sellers?"

"I don't want the attention but I still want to paint. I want people to like my art on its own merit, not because of who painted it."

"Boy, were you born into the wrong family," Allison rolled her eyes and Calliope pulled her vibrating phone out.

"I know, right? It's ridiculous." She agreed absently as she read Spencers' text message and tapped out a response.

"Who was that?"

"Spencer Reid."

"We have a boy toy?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid stood tacking the pictures of the newest victim on the evidence board, leaning heavily on his crutches. His knee was throbbing with an intensity that had him almost willing to take a painkiller. Almost, but not quite. He hadn't taken a Tylenol 3 since Calliope had come home and in the ten days she had been gone after the shooting he had used the medication sparingly. Out of a bottle of sixty pills, he had used only seven and only when the pain became unbearable.

Shoving his hand in his pocket, he closed his fist around the one-year medallion he carried with him. Throwing the bottle of painkillers in the trash had been a mental victory as much as it had been a physical one. Reid spent a lot of time thinking about why avoiding the narcotic had been almost easy this time around. Before he would never have trusted himself alone in the same room with them, the temptation might have turned out to be too great. He couldn't take that risk. But he had the prescription for three months before he threw it out and he only took seven of the pills.

Only seven.

Out of all the things he had achieved in twenty-eight years, he was most proud of that accomplishment. It took him a long time to fully understand why resisting hadn't been the painful struggle he assumed it would be. When it finally dawned on him, he wanted to smack his head against something hard and solid. For a genius, his idiocy astounded him. Before, Reid had _things_ to loose – his job, his friends, the little stability he had. Now, Reid had _everything_ to loose – his job, his gun, his credentials, his friends, the happiness he finally gained, his beautiful muse. It had been so simple because he had Calliope, he had her to lean on when he needed support and he knew that, if he slipped and fell back into using dilaudid, he would loose her. She made that quite clear.

Reid shook his head, pulled himself out of his thoughts, and looked back up at the corkboard before him.

"Callie, what are you doing here?" Reid turned around when Rossi spoke and broke out into a smile when he saw Calliope, Eli and Isaac walking into the room behind Prentiss.

"I had lunch with an old friend, Allison Johnston, from grad school, she works at a modern art gallery here. She had a meeting this afternoon though."

"Have fun?" Reid asked, still smiling.

"So much so that the amount should be illegal," Calliope told him as she gave him a quick, chaste kiss.

"They almost got themselves kicked out of Chili's for causing a scene."

"Apparently laughing too loudly is _bad_, very, very _bad_," she nodded seriously, drawing out the word 'bad' for effect. Reid rolled his eyes and chuckled, the profiler in him noticing how she'd positioned her back to the evidence board, not wanting to see the gruesome pictures.

"You should be serving twenty-five to life then," Rossi told her.

"I'd so be on death row," Calliope agreed. "You guys go back to work. I'm just going to chill in the corner, if that's alright."

"Of course," Reid said quickly, so relieved at the thought of having her in his line of sight that he ignored the nagging guilt telling him his sweetheart had no business being anywhere close to the horrors he worked with daily and that fifteen months of hiding his case files from her would be undone in fifteen seconds. "You can use my chair."

"Eh, floor's cool." She shrugged and squeezed his hand before waltzing over the corner and settling herself down on the floor, her back against the wall. The brothers sat in a set of hard wooden chairs by the windows; Isaac pulled out a book and Eli covertly watched Emily work while he pretended he wasn't. Reid gazed at Calliope dotingly for a minute or so longer before turning back to the board and pinned up the last few items in his hand.

"Who's this?" McEwen asked as she and Hotch walked into the room an hour later and saw the three new additions.

"Ah, that's Dr. Reid's girlfriend Calliope Sellers and her bodyguards, her cousins Lieutenant Colonel Eli Gregg and Major Isaac Gregg. Callie, Isaac, Eli, this is Detective McEwen." Hotch made the introductions and Calliope gave a little wave reminiscent of one Reid would give, the Gregg brothers stood up like the southern gentlemen they had been raised to be.

"Cousins?" McEwen asked disbelievingly as she shook the two men's hands, looking between the three of them.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Well, make yourselves comfortable. All I ask is that you not get in the way."

Hotch frowned at the snippy, judgmental tone in Detective McEwens' voice while she spoke to Isaac and Eli, but stared at Calliope, who sat unaware of the attention she garnered as she attempted to crochet with her right hand.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Bah! I'm going to scream soon," Prentiss groaned as she tossed a folder back onto the table. "What is the significance of dumping the body by a furniture store in Memorial, a strip mall off of Mason Road, the Houston Public Library, an ice rink in Sugarland, and the middle of nowhere off of Katy-Hockley Road?"

"He managed to leave nothing at any of the dumpsites or at the scene of the latest murder. And he sped up. He only waited three days before killing again and left a murder scene _and_ took the time to do some serious overkill after Hanson was already dead. Is this the beginning a devolution or a taunt?"

"We just talked to Mrs. Hanson," J.J. said as she and Morgan walked in and sat down with McEwen and the rest of their team. "She said her husband had no enemies, he was friends with everyone. So why all the pent up rage? All the post-mortem mutilation has to be personal. You don't have that much rage towards someone without a reason."

"He might not have been the reason. He might have just been in the wrong place in the wrong time and bore the brunt of the rage. Something might have just happened in the unsub's life yesterday that caused his anger. So he sped up to get the release he feels when he murders and Hanson happened to be whom he was targeting next. The unsub just took out all his rage on his victim," Reid suggested, looking to Hotch.

"If he was in a rage, that might explain why he didn't take the time to conceal or clean the murder scene," Morgan agreed. "But if he carries a murder kit, he already has the tools to make sure he doesn't leave anything at the scene. Gloves, gun, tape, the wrapping he uses to transport the body."

"Spencer?"

"Calliope, maybe you should wait outside," he said gently, turning to look at her.

"No, it-it's not that. I just have a question." She paused for a moment looking back at the board, utterly unsure of herself, before looking back at Spencers' expectant expression. "Why do you think it's a man?"

"Why is the unsub male?" Spencer reworded her question to make sure he answered what she was asking. At her nod, he proceeded. "He's targeting men that look similar and led similar lives. He's killing men that represent the life he's lost or thinks he deserves."

Calliope looked at little nauseated as she glanced back at the board.

"Sweetheart, I really think you should go outside," Reid started to push himself up, but she shook her head.

"I don't think it's a man," she said just as quietly as she had said his name.

"Ms. Sellers, honestly," McEwen sighed, glaring at her, "If you're going to interrupt with nonsense than you should leave."

"I'm sorry," Calliope blushed and lowered her eyes to her crochet again.

"Wait. Toothpick, why don't you think it's a man?" Morgan asked, resisting the urge to tell the detective to hop off her high horse and get over her little crush on Reid. He saw her cousins tense defensively at the way McEwen spoke to Calliope, but Reid was restudying the board, his forehead wrinkled in concentration, and didn't notice.

"I'm not a profiler," she mumbled, not looking up.

"Callie, you wouldn't have said anything if you didn't have a reason," Rossi said in his customary no-nonsense voice he used when he didn't want to mince words or beat around the bush.

"The dumpsites – that's what you called them, right? You said they don't make sense."

"They don't," J.J. sighed.

"I think they do."

"How so?" Hotch asked, looking at the board.

"If it's a woman, the sites do make sense. May I?" Calliope stood up with uncharacteristic timidness and gestured towards the evidence board. At Morgan's nod, she walked over and pointed at the latest dumpsite. "At the other end of the parking lot is Stars Gymnastics. Then, at the strip mall, there's a Kumon. Right there. Kumon is a learning center for kids. Katy-Hockley has a baseball field. You can see the fence-y, net-y things that make sure the balls don't fly all over. I don't know what those are called. Sugarland was an ice rink and then the library. Those are all places moms take their children for after school activities."

Calliope turned back to the agents sitting at the table and flushed again. "I'm sorry. I'm not a profiler. I'm sorry. I'll be quiet."

"Damn," Morgan sighed, picking up the pictures in front of him.

"What? Did I mess something up? I'm sorry. I didn't touch anything." Calliope still looked nauseated.

"No, Cal. You didn't mess anything up. I think you're right. How did you see that?"

"I work with kids, Derek. They talk to me all the time. Those are places my students go to. I'm one of those types of places. Moms bring their kids to the studio for painting lessons after school."

"She's killing her husband," Prentiss realized.

"Ex-husband," Rossi corrected, picking up a picture of the mutilated body of the latest victim. "You don't have this much rage for a man you're still married to."

"Are you okay, Sweetheart?" Reid studied her, concerned.

"No, I feel… dirty." Calliope said truthfully, rubbing her arms like something was crawling on her. "I-I thought like her. I want to scrub my entire body with bleach or ammonia or something."

"Come here, Sweet Girl," Reid motioned for her to come over to him. Perched on his uninjured leg, Calliope leaned against him and closed her eyes, shaking a little. Reid pursed his lips and held her tightly, wanting to take this feeling away from her. "You are a lot smarter, a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, Sweetheart. Just do me a favor and never mix bleach and ammonia. I love you."

"García, I need you to run a new search for me. Lives in Katy, white female in her late forties, early fifties. Recently divorced and takes the Metro at the same times as our victims. Has children, probably in the junior high or high school age range. Crosscheck that with newly divorced men who fit the same description of the victims."

"_Zilch, Jayje. I'm sorry."_

"Take the Metro off the list for the woman, García," Reid interjected, "and add it to the ex-husband. All the other moms where stay-at-home, if we assume their families match up, she wouldn't be taking the bus, the husband would be. She probably drove her ex-husband to the Park and Ride and picked him up. That's where she got the idea; she saw them when she was dropping him off."

_ "Check and mate. Dr. Reid, they do __not__ call you a genius for nothing."_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer watched as she slept, carefully brushing the loose, frizzy curls that had escaped her braids back so he could see her face, see the freckles on her nose. He loved watching her sleep. There was something pure and innocent about how she looked when she was still and quiet and her breathing was even and calm. She looked so peaceful.

He kissed her forehead and looked around the jet at his friends and family. Eli and Emily played chess and flirted. Derek chatted with Isaac, about what Spencer wasn't sure. J.J. dozed. Hotch and Dave both sat like him, lost in thought. Smiling, he turned back to Calliope, sitting limply next to him, pressed snuggly to his side with her head tucked to his collarbone.

He tightened his protective hold on her and kissed her forehead, thinking back to the morning. Spencer blushed slightly and bit his lip, shifting a little before dragging his mind away from the erotic thoughts of how she felt against him, moved with him, the quiet wanton noises he provoked. He kissed her forehead again, feeling a rush of masculine pride fill him as he remembered all he had caused in her. Thinking back, he was glad he had called the lobby while she was in the shower and asked them to bring up a new set of linens. Calliope hadn't said anything, but he knew she felt grateful she didn't have to sleep on bloody sheets and that he'd saved her the embarrassment of saying anything.

Looking at her again, he frowned slightly. He knew how utterly miserable she'd been the past several months. She put on a front for him, trying to let him believe that she was happy. Her cousins were wonderful and he genuinely liked them, but he knew she wanted them to go home to Williamsburg. Spencer could feel how she tensed in his arms when they sat cuddled on the couch and one of them walked into the room. The little time they had together when he wasn't on a case tainted by how anxious she acted even while trying to appear cheerful and carefree. She was a terrible actor and an even worse liar.

He knew how much she missed Haley. As soon as Dave had commented that the two women might know each other a lot more than Calliope let on, Spencer had started noticing the signs, started putting together things he hadn't before, maybe only because he hadn't wanted to. The two would never be friends the way she and Penelope were friends or she and her friend Jill something-or-other, but they had so much in common, so much to confide in each other about.

He didn't let her know that he knew. Letting her keep her secrets was harmless; Spencer had taken so much from her in the past months, there was no reason for him to take that away from her as well. Barely an hour ago he had held her hair while she was sick over the toilet in the hotel room, unable to stop thinking about the gruesome photographs she had seen and the things she had heard them talk about in the precinct. He had taken so much from her – respecting her secrets was the least he could give her.

Looking down at her now, peaceful and asleep, he smiled. It was better for her to be sleeping, dreaming, instead of thinking about those pictures. Last night he had dreamed. Usually he didn't dream outright. He either relived memories or had nightmares, but rarely dreamt regular dreams. This one had been perfect; this morning, his mind had wanted to stay there, in the perfection of the dream. Closing his eyes, he momentarily let himself drift back to the bungalow he shared with Calliope.

_Spencer walked out the back door onto the porch, the sunshine hot on his skin as he went down the steps into the grassy backyard. Calliope had set up her easel in the year and her hair shown brightly in the sun. The wind blew just enough to move the wind chimes that hung from the arches on the porch and her laughter resonated around him, through him. "Daddy!" Spencer smiled widely as a tiny body launched itself into his arms; a flare of frizzy red curls momentarily obscuring his view. Lifting the child up, he kissed the round cheek. "I missed you, Daddy." "I missed you too, Bailey. I'm home now, though."_

He blinked his eyes open again and squeezed his sleeping muse just a little tighter, held her a little more securely. He wanted that. Before he met Calliope, he never allowed himself to think about having a family, because he always figured it would just never be in the cards for him, was always terrified of passing on his mothers disease. But now he couldn't help but long for it. He wanted to see a little girl with her mothers' hair and bright eyes run towards him when he came home. He wanted to tuck his daughter into bed at night, have her run to him when monsters needed scaring away from under her bed. Calliope made him want that life, made him want to share that life with her.

"Bailey," he whispered, testing the name out, barely audible to himself much less to anyone else on the jet. The woman in his arms would never be able to truly fathom how much she meant to him, how much he loved her. To him, a man who had honestly and wholeheartedly believed and accepted that he would spend his life alone, she acted as a soothing balm that continually healed his pain, replacing it with unending happiness. She was to him as water was to a man lost in the Sahara. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the top of her head. "Bailey Reid. Spencer, Calliope and Bailey Reid. Calliope Reid. I like the sound of that."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I do believe this is my favorite chapter so far and I hope it's yours! Thank you so much, dear readers, for doing as you do and, what else?, reading! I really hope you like it. I love exploring character emotions and development. :o)**

**I posted a pretty awesome one-shot (if I do say so myself) about their first date that I really love. So, if you want a laugh or to see how their love started (all together now: 'awwww') go read it! It's called _Allergies and Phenylethylamine_. **

**At the request of baobei, I shall be posting more one-shots that deeper explore the evolution of their relationship, as she so perceptively noticed and pointed out that _Mystery Muse_ skips several key months of relationship development to keep the pace of the story. So keep your eyes out for them!**

**Again - thank you so much for reading! This is all for yall... and me. Because I like it. Haha! Anyways, please, I hunger to know what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

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"_Happiness is the meaning and the purpose of life, the whole aim and end of human existence." - Aristotle_

o o o o

30 October, 2009

"Hey, J.J." Spencer poked his head into the lesions office, knocking on the doorframe.

"What's up, Spence?" she asked, a bit distracted as she looked through a few case files.

"Actually, I have a favour to ask of you."

"What is it?" J.J. looked up from the file, her blue eyes met his brown one. "You look nervous. What's going on? Is everything alright?"

"Calliope's birthday is in six days."

"I know. November fifth, right?"

"Yeah. She'll be home from her trip the day after though. Next Friday. I have to go pick out her birthday present tonight after work and I was, uh, I was wondering if you would mind coming with me to help. I'm not really good with what I want to get her."

"What are you getting for Luce?" Penelope asked from behind him, causing him to jump a bit and she laughed.

"I, uh, uh, I'm getting her a dog. Er, a puppy would be more accurate term, I suppose. I want to get her a puppy."

"Reid, dogs, like, totally hate you," Penelope smirked at him.

"They don't completely hate me."

"Spence, I'm gonna have to go with García on this one: dogs completely hate you." J.J. grinned, laughing a little as she leaned back in her chair.

"It would make her happy. A dog is something she would love and it would keep her company when we're on cases. She gets lonely."

"Why not get her a cat?" Penelope asked. "At least the cat would just ignore you. They hate in a more subtle way than dogs do."

"Calliope has an acute feline allergy. If she gets anywhere near a cat, her throat closes up, she breaks out in hives, and her eyes start inching and then swell shut. So, if I wanted to kill her, sure, a cat would be a great idea. But, since I prefer her alive, I'm going to go with not getting a cat option."

"Huh. You'd have thought I'd know that by now," Penelope mused. "Mental note – never bring Luce anywhere near a cat unless I'm mad at her."

"What? García –"

"Kidding, Reid, kidding. Shesh. You should know my humour by now," the blonde tech analyst rolled her eyes and pushed past the gangly young men into the office. "Here, Jayje. The files you needed."

"Ah, thank you. Now I can finally close this case," J.J. smiled, took the files out of the other woman's hand and put them on top of those related to the case. "What kind of dog are you looking at, Spence?"

"Um, a, uh, a Bernese Mountain dog."

"What's that?"

"A breed of dog originated in the Swiss Alps specifically the Canton of Berne, which is what they're named after. In Swiss-German they're called _Berner Sennenhund_. _Senne _is the German word for alpine pasture and _hund_ is dog. Now we refer to them as belonging to the 'working class' because they were used on farms to guard property and herding cattle. Originally, of course, they descended from wolves as all dogs are and –"

"Spence. Spence!"

"What?"

"History lesson's over, Spence. Just tell us what they look like."

"They're, um, they're tricoloured. Most of their body is black, but they have a white chest and stomach and their muzzle is white. They have kind of rusty brown legs and markings over their eyes and sides of their mouth. Their ears are triangular and floppy. The males weigh between a hundred to a hundred and thirty pounds. If you exclude the head, they're about two and a half feet tall. They're actually, uh, they're pretty attractive dogs."

"Reid, that dog's gonna end up weighing more than Calliope does."

"I know, but that's the dog she likes."

"Does she know you're getting her a dog?"

"No. It's a surprise. But she's made me watch that romantic comedy about the woman who's been a bridesmaid thirty times –"

"_Twenty-Seven Dresses_," Penelope supplied.

"Sure, I guess. She's made me watch it half a dozen times and she always pauses the DVD when the dog comes on and fawns over it. That dog's a Bernese Mountain dog. I have an appointment with a breeder tonight at six-thirty to pick one out," Spencer pulled a business card out of his pocket and checked the name, "a Georgina Lyons. I looked her up and she has a good record. She's a reputable breeder with no complaints and has healthy dogs, so I picked her. Her dogs are more expensive than others, but I'd rather pay more and get a healthy dog with no problems. She lives in Pleasant Spring, Maryland. It's about an hour from the office."

"And you want me to come with?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Ohhh! I want to go to!"

"Go where?" Emily approached the door. "What's this party about? I was feeling left out sitting at my desk all by myself."

"Wonder Boy is getting Calliope a dog for her birthday."

"What? Dogs hate you, Reid."

"Not all dogs hate me."

"Ch-yeah. All dogs."

"Okay, we've already had this conversation," Spencer sighed, hunching his shoulders and shoving his hands in his pocket.

"I'll go, Spence."

"Hey! I want to come to. I want to help you pick out a dog for Luce. Can I name it?"

"No," Spencer said quickly. "I can only imagine the name you'd come up with, García."

"If they're going, I'm going," Emily told him, not bothering to ask. "I love dogs. How old is she going to be anyways?"

"She's turning twenty-seven."

"Ugh, I shouldn't have asked," Emily groaned. "I can't believe I turned eleven before she was even born. When did I get so old?"

"If it makes you feel any better, her oldest brother was born the same year as you," Spencer told her, not really sure what he was supposed to say.

"She has a brother?" J.J. tuned back into the conversation. "I thought she was an only child."

"Yeah," Penelope cut in before Spencer could say anything. "It's _trés, trés tragique_. She had three siblings: Orlando, Demetrius, and Rosalind. Eleven, nine and five. Her parents had a thing for Shakespeare apparently, which is fitting because both of them were college professors. Mr. Sellers was a Shakespearian history and literature professor and Mrs. Sellers taught Greek and Roman mythology. So romantic – they met in college at Washington and Lee, a.k.a. where Calliope attended university, and then they both taught at William and Mary.

"Three and a half weeks after Luce was born, Rosalind had a ballet recital. Dr. Sellers babysat Luce while the others went watch the recital. They were driving home to Dahlia when they were hit by a drunk driver, causing the car to flip five times. All but Mrs. Sellers were D.O.A. and she passed away in the ambulance."

"Oh my God. That's awful," Emily said, her mouth open in horror.

"García," Spencers voice was tight and he looked at the blonde with a strange expression on his face. "How do you know that?"

"Calliope told me," Penelope said, not looking at him.

"No. No, she didn't. And I know that because of two reasons. The first being Calliope never talks about her family. Never. None of the Sellers do. I've been with her for over a year and she's mentioned them all of nine times. The second is that you have your facts wrong. Facts that were reported incorrectly by the newspapers. The driver wasn't drunk, García. He hit a patch of black ice. And Hannah Sellers wasn't alive, Henry Sellers was. You googled her."

"Technically, I didn't google her," Penelope cringed as she looked at him. "I used the bureau databases to research her and the Sellers family."

"When?"

"After your first date when the team was in Orange Country tracking down the Road Warrior," Penelope bite her lip and looked sheepish and slightly ashamed, a look that Spencer had never seen on her face in the five years they had worked together.

"You mean after I asked you not to and you told me you wouldn't," Spencer said quietly before turning and walking out of J.J.'s office.

"Reid, I'm sorry!" Penelope turned to the other two women. "Please tell me I didn't screw up as bad as I think I screwed up."

"I wish we could, Pen," J.J. sighed. "I wish we could."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Speaking rapid Italian to the elderly man beside her, Calliope dropped her shopping bags at her feet and sat down on the bench. She reached into her oversized purse and pulled out a large black folder. Opening it, she put the folder in the graying man's lap, smiling at him.

"Magnifico, poco Calliope. Magnifico." With wrinkled hands he turned the plastic coated pages, studying the pencil sketches. He paused longer on a page full of sketched hands in various positions. "Molto bella! Perfetto, la mia ragazza."

Calliope smiled widely at the lavish praise from her longtime teacher, grandmaster painter Emilio Moretti. Speaking, she pointed to areas on the fingers and wrists she wasn't pleased with.

"Why aren't you please, little Calliope?" He asked in his kind, leathery voice.

"They don't do justice," she sighed. "The real hands are far more beautiful. I can't seem to meld the delicate features with the strength behind them. They look too effeminate, Master Moretti."

"This one," he pointed to the hand holding a pen, "is truly remarkable. You can see the strength. There. In the joints. In the way he holds the pen. The curve of the index finger. What more could you want, dear girl?"

Calliope nodded, tilted her head a bit and looked at the hand again, absently itching under the edge of her cast by her elbow. Master Moretti pointed to a new hand and smiled. This hand gently, carefully cradled a soft, feminine jaw, the long fingers stretched over the females' cheek, the thumb tracing her bottom lip.

"Romantico, no?"

"Sì," Calliope smiled.

"This jaw line is oddly familiar," he teased, patting her hand.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Little liar," Master Moretti chuckled.

Calliope looked down at the hands and smiled. She missed the person whose hands were drawn on the page. She had been in Florence for eight days and had another six full days here before she flew home to Virginia, to Spencer. She missed him.

She absolutely loved Florence. She lived here for three years to train fulltime under Master Moretti at The Florence Academy of Art after she graduated from Washington and Lee when she was twenty. She began informal training with him when she was six and her grandparents realized her raw talent. Master Moretti made the trip to see her at Dahlia after her grandfather had sent pictures of her paintings to him and the grandmaster asked for 'the honour to train little Calliope.' She would visit him in Florence or him came to Williamsburg until she moved to Italy.

The streets were her favorite places in Florence. She loved to sit and sketch the people strolling along. People watching always produced the best sketches and thus the best paintings. But now all she could do was snap pictures and talk menacingly to the cast on her left hand preventing her from drawing or painting, which caused some very interesting stares from strangers.

The one good thing about being in Florence, even if she couldn't paint, was that she was allowed to be alone. After begging and pleading for weeks, Spencer and her grandparents agreed with her that going on her annual trip to Italy by herself was safe. Part of her was sure that Spencer only agreed because he knew there was no way Foyet could get out of the country and that, if she was in Florence, he wouldn't be able to hurt her. Alone in Italy was safer than protected in the States.

But she missed him so much. She missed waking up to see him watching her, the sweet, loving smile on his face as he kissed her good morning. She missed hearing him close the door behind him when he got home at night before calling out her name. She missed him coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her close so he could hold her. She missed listening to his voice as he talked, even if he was just reading the grocery list or asking if she had laundry. She missed his hands, watching him write or turn the pages of a book, the way his hands were always so gentle when he touched her. She just plain missed him.

"Venti anni, poco Calliope." Her teachers' weathered voice brought her out of her musings and it took a second for her to focus her eyes in the present and look at him. "I can't believe it's been twenty years. Twenty years ago tomorrow I walked into this big white house expecting to see a shy little girl, but was completely blown away by this fireball of energy and enthusiasm that slid down the banister while her grandmother chased after her, yelling that she needed to be a proper young lady. Guests turned and stared at her, but she cared not. Completely oblivious to everything but her fun. She fell flat on her bottom at the end of the banister, stood right up and danced over to me, demanding that I teach her how to paint."

"I was a stubborn and persistent little brat, wasn't I?"

"Very much so," he agreed, smiling. "And you haven't changed. But I have enjoyed every second of it, dear girl. Never doubt that. You've kept me young."

"Thank you, Master Moretti. For everything. You taught me so much and not just about art, but about life, real life away from the… the overprotection and overindulged life at Dahlia. You taught me what real happiness was, Master Moretti. I'd still be so lost if I hadn't come to Florence to study."

"It's been my pleasure, little Calliope. I'm extremely proud to have you as my protégé. Now, I fully expect an invitation to your wedding when the man with the beautiful hands asks for yours."

"Master Moretti –" Calliope started.

"He'd be a fool to let you go. What's his name?"

"Doctor Spencer Reid. How did you know?"

"Artists see what goes unsaid, dear girl."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid flipped the folder in front of him closed and tossed it on top of the 'complete' file on his desk, relieved that the 'complete' stack was finally taller than the stack of files he still had left to finish. Checking the clock in the corner of his computer screen, he smiled, grabbed his tan messenger bag and stood up.

"Going to lunch?" Morgan looked up from his own file as Reid pushed in his chair and pocketed his mobile.

"Yeah."

"Wait up, I'll join you."

"Uh, actually I'm going to be on the phone," Reid said.

"It's one o'clock, Morgan," Prentiss laughed pointing at the clock on the wall. "Time for the daily phone call."

"Right, right. I forgot. How long has she been gone, Lover Boy?" Morgan grinned and put the file down on the desk.

"Eight days. She gets home next Friday. The plane lands at five at Ronald Reagan. I'm going to pick her up."

"Yeah, we know. The goddess and I took next Friday off remember? To help set up for her birthday party."

"That's right. I almost forgot. Thanks, by the way."

"No problem. It'd take something along the lines of an earthquake clocking a ten on the Richter scale to keep García away from a surprise party. You know that, Reid," Morgan grinned.

"We have no recorded earthquakes registering a ten or larger on the Richter scale. An earthquake registering a nine only occurs approximately once every twenty years, an eight once a year."

"My point exactly, Genius."

Emily and Reid both laughed, knowing it was true. "We're supposed to be there at six, right?"

Reid nodded and checked his watch.

"Go, Reid. We know. She's calling soon."

"Thanks," Reid gave them a quick smile before hurrying out of the office. Choosing the stairs over the elevator incase she called before he got out of the building, he hastened down the empty stairs smiling when he felt the phone buzz in his pocket as he pushed the door open at the end of the stairwell and walked into the lobby. "Hey Sweetheart. How are you?"

_ "I'm good, Spencer. Just had dinner. How are you?" Calliope sat in Piazza della Repubblica on the patio of Café Giubbe Rosse, arguably her favorite place in all of Italy. She took a sip of her iced tea and smiled at the sound of Spencers' voice. _

"Alright. Been doing paperwork all morning." He walked quickly out of the foyer and into the sunshine, walking down the stone steps.

_ "Awww, poor baby. Has your hand cramped up yet?"_

"Three times." Spencer walked down the sidewalk towards the small family deli he often frequented for lunch.

_ "My poor magician," Calliope shook her head even though he couldn't see. "Though I must say I'd rather have you with a cramped hand than without a cramped hand because you're tracking down a child molester or a murderer."_

"I know, Sweetheart. Me too. What did you do today?" Stopping in front of the deli counter, he waved at the middle-aged woman behind it.

"The usual, Dr. Reid?" She asked. Spencer nodded and mouthed 'thank you' as he listened to Calliope tell him about her afternoon with her teacher. He exchanged some cash for his sandwich and held up his hand, silently telling her to keep the change, before walking over and sitting down in the corner.

_ "Master Moretti said my sketches are getting better. He gave me a few pointers on how to improve the way I convey emotion. Especially in eyes. I can't wait to try it out."_

"That's great, Calliope. I'm sorry you can't try now."

_ "Stop apologizing for my wrist, Spencer. It's not your fault."_

"Yes, Sweetheart. It is."

_ "No. It's Foyet's fault. Not yours."_

"I love you."

_ "And I love you. How is everyone?"_

"Everyone seems fine. Getting tired of paperwork, but, like you said, bored is better in our line of work."

_ "Good, good. Oh! I talked to Jill today. Two hour time difference instead of eight sure makes it much easier. It was so good to talk to her again. You know, like, not over e-mail. She and Steven are doing really well. She's up for promotion to, um…. Crap. What'd she call it? Craaap… Oh! Oh! I remember – Associate Director to the Country Director. ADCD – like AC/DC, but not quite. Haha. Anyways, I have no idea what that means. But she sounded really excited, so it can't be bad."_

"To put it simply, that means she'll be second in command in charge of everything the Peace Corps does in Uganda."

_"Ahhh. That __is__ cool. She'll be the big fish. She was always meant to be a big fish. Jill completely sucks as a follower. She was always the leader when we were kids. She came up with the best ideas; we got in so much trouble. It was great." Calliope laughed remembering. "I told her about my wrist, the real story, and she just laughed at me. She didn't believe me! She kept saying I just didn't want to admit I wasn't paying attention and I fell down the stairs. Or that I finally fell off the banister and I was just lucky I only broke my wrist instead of splitting my head open. Why is the truth always stranger than fiction?"_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Come in, Mere Mortal!" García called to whoever was knocking on her office door. "Who needs The Beautiful Oracles' help today?" Spinning around in her computer chair, she quieted when she saw the Reid's lanky frame enter, closing the door behind him.

"Hey, García."

"Hey. Reid, I'm… I'm really sorry. You're right. I should have listened. I should have respected what you wanted. I just… I wanted to make sure that you weren't going to get hurt. I wanted to make sure she was good enough for you. After I got shot… I don't know. I wanted to make sure."

"I know. Penelope, it's okay. I'm not angry with you."

"You're not?"

"No. I thought about it and, yes, you should have respected my wishes, but I understand. You snooped out of love, your special García-version of love, which doesn't make it okay, but it does justify the snooping." Reid told her.

"So… we're okay?" García asked, an anxious look on her face. She smiled at his nod and stood up, hugging her friend who awkwardly hugged her back. "We, uh, we don't have to tell Luce I snooped, do we?"

"Oh, we already did." Reid laughed.

"Is she going to have me arrested?"

"García, do you seriously think Calliope would have you arrested? Actually, she laughed and told me I was an idiot for not assumed you already had. And then she wanted to know if you had actually managed to find everything about her and her family. She said to tell you, quote, 'Ethel, if you think you've found everything, I dare you to look again and try to catch everything you missed.'"

"What? Oh, that little brat is totally issuing a challenge she knows I can't resist. It is so on." Garcías eyes got that mischievous and thrilled look that usually meant she was up to no good and Reid shook his head.

"Just don't do anything illegal," he told her over his shoulder as he left.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Sliding her nightgown over her head, Calliope reached into the dresser drawer and pulled out a threadbare mans' dress shirt. She climbed into bed and tucked the blankets in around her. She curled around the pillow, burying her face in the shirt and hugging the cream coloured teddy bear Spencer had given her. Inhaling his scent from the shirt, she tried to pretend him arms wrapped securely around her, that his voice whispered softly in her ear and his heart beat reassuringly under her cheek.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Whoa, Pretty Boy. Hold up. Where are you going with this gorgeous harem following you?" Morgan asked as Reid, Prentiss, García and J.J. made to leave the BAU that evening.

"Reid's getting Calliope a puppy for her birthday," J.J. told him. "We're going to go help him pick it out."

"Reid, dog's hate you."

"Why is that everyone's first response?" Reid groaned.

"Because it's true," Prentiss laughed.

"This I've got to see," Morgan said, standing up and shoving his unfinished file in a drawer. Reid rolled his eyes and sighed, but said nothing as the man joined their group. "What kind of dog? Are you getting one of those tiny pretend dogs? A Chihuahua or something? I can see Cal with one of those tiny furballs."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Are you sure getting Cal one of these dogs is a good idea?" Derek asked as he scratched under the ear of the mom of the liter they were looking at. "I mean, this is a gorgeous dog, no doubt, but are you sure it's right for Cal? They're so big and she's so, well, _not_ big."

"Yes, I'm sure," Spencer said as he watched the three women play with the puppies Mrs. Lyons had brought out for them to see. He sat on the floor with his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. "I've done my research, Morgan. She likes these dogs, that's why I looked into them in the first place. A Berner is a good fit for Calliope. Their good-natured, friendly, and cheerful, they like kids, very intelligent. They like to be around people. It takes longer for them to mature to adults in regards to their behavior, so they act like puppies longer. Calliope would like that a lot. Berners like structure and routines, so he won't like my job, but he will like Calliopes'. They both need and want a daily walk, so he'll like walking the three miles to The Hobbit Hole once Calliope's allowed to walk to work again. It's a good fit."

"Yeah, they sure do like people," Emily smiled as she rubbed the stomach of one of the puppies. "It's just a shame none of them like you, Reid."

"I do have one more from this litter," Mrs. Lyons spoke up. "I wasn't going to bring him out because he's a little on the runty side. There's nothing wrong with him. He's just as healthy as these pups, he's just a bit smaller and more timid. Let me go get him."

Mrs. Lyons returned a few minutes later with an eleventh puppy, which was indeed smaller than the others that clustered around the women. Putting the puppy down on all four paws, she moved back and they watched as the newest addition looked around the room warily. He moved first towards Derek who put his hand out for the dog to smell, but after a few sniffs he scuttled backwards away from the man's hand. He moved away from Emily as quickly as he moved away from Derek, lingered at Penelope for a bit longer, before pausing for a while by J.J. She scratched his neck, but the little dog kept sniffing, trying to find something, and he wandered away from her.

He sniffed at Spencer's crutch leaning against the wall. Pressing at it with his paw, the crutch fell with a clang and the dog ran from the terrifying noise.

"Well, look at that…" Derek wondered aloud, smiling, as he and his colleagues watched the dog hunch down in Spencer's lap, staring at the big, scary crutch where it lay on the linoleum. Tentatively, he scratched behind the puppy's ear, relieved when the dog didn't object. He smiled down at the ball of fluff in his lap as it started to gnaw toothlessly on the edge of his grey knit cardigan, the one Calliope loved to call the 'retirement home sweater.'

"Spence… the dog just…"

"Yeah, I felt it. At least I'm just going home after this. Does canine urine come out of slacks?"

"Awww, Reid, he totally just claimed you," Penelope was smiling. "The little cutie took any decision away from you. He's it. It's a good thing he doesn't have teeth yet or that sweater would be ruined."

"Perses."

"What? Purses? Why do you need a purse, Reid?" Emily looked at him strangely.

"No, Perses. P-E-R-S-E-S. The Greek mythological Titan of Destruction."

"Reid, I don't think that little runt's ever going to be a titan." Derek laughed.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"There's your bed, water bowl and food…" Spencer was talking more to himself than the dog, mentally going through a checklist to make sure the dog had everything it could possibly need before he went to bed. "Okay, Perses. I think you're good."

Spencer looked down at the dog and the dog looked back up at him, his head tilted slightly to the side. "Why am I talking to you? You can't answer. I've been with Calliope too long. She's rubbing off on me. Soon she'll have me talking to the toaster. Goodnight, Perses. Don't destroy the house."

Closing the door to the master bedroom behind him, Spencer quickly changed into his pajamas and slipped under the covers. He was almost asleep when he heard a scratching at the door and a pitiful whining sound; pushing the covers back, he walked over and opened the door, looking down at the furball as it darted into the room.

"Okay, come on. You don't belong in here." Spencer picked the dog up and carried it back into the living room, putting it down in its' bed. As soon as the Perses' paws were on the ground, he made a mad dash back into the bedroom. Sighing, Spencer found him, picked him up, and carried him back into the living room. The cycle repeated for a good ten minutes before Spencer gave up.

"Come here," he said, picking up the dog for a final time, but instead of taking him into the living room again he placed the puppy on the bed before getting in himself. "Only for tonight, okay?"

* * *

**A/N:**

**"Only for tonight"... ahhh the fatal last words. Pictures of Perses in Photobucket! So cute.**

**So, lucky yall, I'm on spring break! So you get two updates in one weekend (and probably more to come before I go back to university)! :D Now, I'm off to write some more before I go see Alice in Wonderland with some friends at Alamo Drafthouse (NOM NOM NOM)!**

**Thanks for reading! I hope you like it! Please, tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_You are only young once, but you can be immature for a lifetime. – John P. Grier_

o o o o

6 November, 2009

Perses stood on his hind legs, batting at the lime green streamers Penelope was hanging from the ceiling. Laughing, the woman kept tugging the streamer just out of the dogs' reach, utterly amused as the dog fell forward on all four paws only to try again and again.

"The cutie thinks he's a cat! You are so cute, Perses. If I didn't know that you'd bark your head off if I tried to take you away from your daddy, I'd steal you and keep you for myself."

"Angel, you're going to give that poor runt a complex doing that," Derek laughed as Perses fell forward again, but didn't catch himself in time and smacked his nose against the hardwood floor. Yelping more from being startled than from pain, the puppy scampered away into the master bedroom.

"Did you step on him, Morgan?" Spencer asked as he came through the front door in time to hear Perses' yelp. Perses, hearing Spencers' voice, came running back out of the bedroom and darted straight towards him. "Hi, Perses. Did Morgan step on you?"

"I did not step on the little runt!" Derek defended himself as Spencer came into view balancing a cake box in one hand and leaning on a crutch with the other. "It's García's fault. Here, give me that before you drop it."

Spencer let Derek take the cake from him and leaned down to scratch Perses. "Thanks. I don't think I thought that all the way through or I would have had someone else pick up the cake. García, why are you putting up streamers?"

"It's a birthday party?"

"She's twenty-seven."

Penelope rolled her eyes and reached over from where she stood on the stepstool and tugged a picture off of the fridge door. Covering the face of the brunette Calliope was hugging, Penelope made the picture talk. "Hi! My name's Calliope Sellers and I _love_ colourful things and I also love to act like I'm five. Last month I bought seven pounds of Play-Doh simply because I could. And then, when I finally got bored with it, I spent an hour rolling it into balls and pegging my boyfriend with them. It's nice to meet you, Dr. Reid. It's not like we've been dating for over a year and you should know by now that I would go absolutely crazy for streamers. If you got me a piñata and filled it with pink and yellow Starbursts, I'd be happy for life."

"She has a point, Reid," Derek agreed, laughing at Penelope's Calliope imitation. Closing the fridge door after he put the cake in, Derek took the picture from her and stuck it back on the fridge. "When do you have to leave to pick Cal up?"

"Thirty minutes or so," Spencer told him as he bent down and picked up the dog that was pawing at his leg and whining. "What is wrong with you? Too much excitement? Hey. What are you doing with my sock? Give me that." Pulling the purple sock from Perses' mouth, he tucked it in his pocket and scratched Perses behind his ear fondly, shaking his head as the dog immediately forgot about the sock and began gnawing on the sleeve of his sweater. Sighing, he turned to look at Derek. "He has chewed everything I own that he can get his paws on. But he won't chew anything of Calliope's, just mine… He's the perfect gift for her – additional ammunition for driving me insane, not that she needs any _more_ help with accomplishing that particular task."

"The runt's choosy about what he chews on?"

"Yeah."

"You definitely picked the weird one, Kid."

"I didn't pick him. He picked me."

"Oh come on, Reid, you love him," Penelope laughed. "Admit it. Just look as his cutie, patootie little face. How can you not love that adorable little face?"

"You do grow on a person, don't you?" Spencer asked the dog, still scratching behind his ear. Groaning, he pulled his sleeve from the puppy's mouth and looked at the slobbery teeth marks. He shook his head as he put the dog down on the floor. "You are going to ruin everything I own. You're certainly are living up to your name, Perses. I'm going to go change my sweater and then head to the airport."

"Her cousins are on their way, right?" Derek called.

"Yeah. They should be here soon. About half an hour or so. Isaac texted me an hour ago saying they were leaving Williamsburg."

"Oh! Don't forget to take the Porsche instead of your car."

"I hate driving the SUV," Spencer groused as he came back into view buttoning up a new sweater.

"Why? That SUV is stunning and your car's a rusting hunk of junk." Derek rolled his eyes as he hung the 'Happy Birthday' banner.

"Driving it makes me nervous. It's expensive; it probably cost more than any of us make in a year. Just because you and Calliope both have a thing for fast, expensive cars doesn't mean I have to." Spencer took the keys off the hook by the backdoor and stepped into his shoes. "Why do I have to take the SUV, García?"

"Because it has a GPS tracking device in it that I can track you with so we'll know when you and Luce are almost here."

"Right, because why do something antiquated and boring like call or text when you can do something illegal and exciting like hack into the Porsche computer system, commandeer their GPS tracking software and spy on people via satellite."

"I'm glad you understand, Dr. Reid. Now toss me that big roll of purple streamers."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"How much longer?"

"Subtract five minutes from the last time you asked, Breelyn." Eli rolled his eyes at his sisters through the rearview mirror as he drove up I-95.

"Is Emily going to be there?"

"I assume so."

"Good. I want to meet this girl," Ashanti grinned at her sister and Isaac just laughed from the front seat. "What's she like, Isaac?"

"She's nice. Pretty. Smart."

"Boys suck at gossiping."

"I know. They take all the fun out of it. They went out last weekend. I caught Eli as he was leaving Mom and Dads and weaseled it out of him."

"No way! Eli! Why didn't you tell me?"

"So! Anyone want to take bets on if Aunt Brenda's going to make a scene or not?" Eli attempted to change the subject as they passed the 'FREDERICKSBURG - 20 MILES' sign. "I have a twenty on her being snippy and rude to Spencer the entire time and then snapping and causing a scene an hour and a half in. An extra ten that she yells at TooTall to break up with Spencer."

"I think she'll last two hours before she freaks," Isaac challenged. "And I raise your ten on the break up bit to a twenty."

"You two are terrible!" Breelyn looked horrified. "You should not be betting on Calliope's pain! That's just wrong and twisted. She's our cousin! We should be hoping Aunt Brenda behaves herself."

"You mean the way she behaved herself at the Forth of July barbeque?"

"Or at Uncle Ben's birthday dinner?"

"Oh. My favorite was when TooTall finally had to kick Aunt Brenda out of her gallery opening in September."

"You two are the worst cousins ever." Ashanti sighed. "But I want thirty on Aunt Brenda lasting three hours and then having a major meltdown. I suspect something will be thrown at Spencer."

"I feel so bad for him. Poor man. Never stood a chance against Brenda Sellers," Breelyn grimaced. "Why doesn't she like him? I seriously just don't get it. I mean… Calliope loves him and it's pretty ridiculously obvious that he is completely wrapped around her finger. He totally worships her."

"Worship is a bit strong," Isaac interrupted.

"Okay, you lived with them. What would you say?"

"I can see where you'd say he's wrapped around her finger, but he's really not. At least I don't think so. The kid loves TooTall to the sun and back and he lets her have her way in a lot of things, but he's got a spine. Spencer isn't a pushover. If he thinks it's important, he's not afraid to duke it out with her. He's not afraid of hurting her feelings. God, do you remember, damn, what's his name? That pansy-ass Aunt Brenda kept trying to set Calliope up with?"

"Wasn't his name something pretentious and snobby like Ralph or something?" Ashanti offered.

"Yes! That's it. Ralph Williams. Such a pansy. The wuss was terrified of Calliope! She intimidated him like nobodies business and he kept coming back. Why the hell'd he keep coming back? She steamrolled right over him. It was ridiculous."

"I don't know," Eli laughed. "All I know was it was funny as hell. How'd she finally get rid of him, again?"

"He was following us around historical Williamsburg, I don't remember what we were doing, but she finally snapped. Just couldn't take it anymore. She turned around, told him to hold still, and wrote 'I dislike you' on his forehead in Sharpie," Breelyn giggled. "And he let her! He just stood there and let her write on his forehead with a permanent marker. I have a picture. It's priceless. I'll put in on Facebook for you."

"I knew there was a reason I love that girl." Isaac gasped out as they all started laughing. "That has got to be one of the most creative ways to ditch a clueless guy ever used."

"Aunt Brenda was not happy with her when Ralphs' mommy called to tell her what Calliope did. He was in his twenties, wasn't he? What kind of man has his mommy call and tattle because he can't stand up for himself?"

"I like Spencer. He's good for her," Ashanti said when the four siblings had finally stopped laughing. "I still don't understand why Aunt Brenda doesn't like him. It's silly."

"I'm with ya," Eli nodded as they turned right onto Lafayette Boulevard. "Spencer's great for her. He's overprotective but when you combine that with Calliope's innate need to disobey people and cause trouble, it evens out so it's just protective enough. He takes good care of her. It's insane – it's like he's got it down to a science. If it weren't so cute, it'd be sickening. Actually, it is a bit sickening. Thankfully, he's more balanced than she is. Though it really doesn't take much to be more balanced than TooTall."

"She's not that bad!" Breelyn defended. "Calliope's just a little volatile, a little spastic and impulsive. Impetuous."

"Ohhh, where'd you get them fancy ten-dollar words, Bree? Been reading the thesaurus for fun again?"

"Shut up, Isaac!"

_ "Hello?"_

"Hey, Derek. It's Eli. Let us in. I forgot my keypad thing." He spoke into the speaker as they idled outside the gate.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer leaned against the cinderblock wall as he waited, watching for the tiny redhead he loved to come barreling out of customs. Checking his watch again, he sighed and leaned his head back. He'd been waiting here for an hour. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a flash of red and turned to look, but was disappointed when it turned out to be someone else.

"Spencer!"

Smiling, he turned to see Calliope running across the waiting area to him, hitting him hard when she collided straight into his arms. He leaned down and caught her lips with his, tightening his hold on her. She was home.

"I missed you, Sweetheart," he whispered into her hair.

"I missed you too, String Bean. Two weeks away from you is too long."

A throat cleared a little bit away and Spencer looked up to see a short, stocky man standing next to a baggage cart looking disgruntled.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Calliope smiled as she pulled away a bit away from Spencer. "Jonathan, this is my boyfriend, Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is Jonathan Price. We met on the plane and he offered to help me carry my bags."

"Nice to meet you," Spencer shook the mans' hand, but Jonathan simply grunted. "Thanks for helping her."

"I guess I'll be going. Nice to meet you, Calliope." Jonathan spoke awkwardly to her before giving Spencer a stiff nod and walked away.

"What were you thinking?" Spencer laughed once the man was far enough away.

"What? What do you mean?" Calliope stared at him, confused.

"You are so clueless. I love you, you crazy person. He was interested in you. I doubt meeting me was quite the ending he had envisioned when he offered to help you carry your bags."

"Spencer, you're being silly. Jonathan was just being helpful. He was really nice on the plane."

"Then why was he so stiff and uncomfortable when you introduced me? He didn't even speak to me. He grunted." Spencer grinned at the slow understanding spread across her face and she flushed red.

"Oh no… I didn't mean to! Oh my god, I practically cheated on you and I didn't even realize it! I'm a terrible girlfriend! What's wrong with me?" Calliope looked up at him, completely horrified and Spencer started laughing, pulling her close.

"Nothing's wrong with you. You're just crazy and clueless. Come on, let's go home." Spencer kissed her again before turning to the baggage cart and paused. "Calliope… your luggage reproduced. You left with one bag and carry-on. You have four bags now. How much did you buy in Florence?"

"Most of it's not for me! Christmas is just around the corner. I'm almost completely finished with Christmas shopping now."

"You can't Christmas shop here?"

"Boring. Plus, it's hard when things start screaming at you, 'Penelope would love this!' 'This is perfect for Breelyn!' or 'How cute would Henry look in this?'"

"Inanimate objects are screaming at you?" Calliope simply blinked at him. "Probably payback for all the times you've screamed terrible things at them."

"Probably. Oh! I got Haley and Jack's Christmas presents. I got Haley this gorgeous silk scarf that I think she'll like. I got Jack Attack these little sugar candies that are in the shapes of jungle animals! They were so cool. I'll get him something he can play with too, but that I'll just buy here. I figure if they aren't out by Christmas I can just give them to the service and they can give them to Haley. Am I allowed to do that? I don't know. Maybe I should have asked Aaron first."

"If you asked first I'd worry that some virus had invaded your brain."

"Hush you. You're mean." Calliope stuck her tongue out at him before kissing him again. "Mmmm… I missed you so much, String Bean. As much as I liked being able to go out without Pinky and the Brain, Italy was lonely without you. Especially at night. I've decided that I really dislike going to sleep without you."

"I don't like it either. Let's go home, Sweetheart. It's a good thing I brought the SUV."

"You brought the Porsche?" Calliope smiled happily. "I'm driving home."

"Just don't get us pulled over."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

J.J. pulled out the last tray of snack food from the fridge when she spotted the small, wrinkled woman scowling at the picture of Spencer and Calliope smiling in front of the lion exhibit at the zoo that sat on the counter. She had never seen the woman before, but from Spencer's description J.J. knew exactly who she was. Gray hair, frail looking, stood a bit hunched over, her brown skin covered in wrinkles and age spots, and an angry, resentful look in her eyes as she looked at the photographed doctor. This was Brenda Sellers.

"That's a cute picture of them, isn't it?" J.J. smiled at her. "It was taken last February on Valentines Day. Spence keeps a small version of that picture in his wallet. He really loves her. I'm J.J., by the way. Jennifer Jareau."

"He doesn't know her," Brenda scoffed bitterly.

J.J. balked slightly. Spencer had said she hated him, but hearing it and actually experiencing it were two different things. This didn't make sense. Why would anyone hate Spencer?

"That belongs on the counter," J.J. said coolly when Brenda picked up the picture. Emily walked in with a few bags of ice and looked confused about what exactly she'd walked into.

"Hi, Ms. Sellers. I'm Emily Prentiss." Emily put the ice down and moved forward with her hand outstretched.

"Nice to meet you," Brenda said curtly, shaking her hand before walking out of the kitchen.

"Wow. Spence was _not_ exaggerating."

"That is some serious hatred."

"Guys! Guys, they just turned onto Lee Drive! Derek, put Perses in the bedroom. Wait! Is the bow on his collar?"

"Yes, Mama. You put the bow on ten minutes ago, remember? Come here, runt."

"You're right. I forgot. Make sure to give him one of Reid's socks so he doesn't bark. Ah! They're at the gate. Luce must be driving. Reid never drives that fast. He's such an old man driver. No offense, Dr. Sellers!"

Ben laughed merrily as they heard the beep from the speakers that told them the gate had opened. "Places!" They heard the car pull into the garage and they all grouped together in the living room, looking towards the garage door. Calliope's laughter filled the house and they stayed quiet until she rounded the corner.

"Happy Birthday!"

"Sweet Jesus!" Calliope yelped and dropped the suitcase she was carrying, bumping into Spencer and smacking her cheek with her cast. "Ow!"

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" Spencer steadied her and shook his head. "You need to stop hitting yourself with your cast. You're eventually going to fracture your cheekbone if you keep hitting it."

Calliope wasn't paying any attention to Spencer. She ran across the room and hugged her grandfather and then her mammy. She laughed and smiled as she went around the living room hugging her cousins, aunt and uncles, their friends. Eventually she wound up back by Spencer and smiled at him, stepping back into his arms and pushing onto her toes to kiss him.

"You are amazing, String Bean. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I love you, Sweetheart."

"I love you too."

"Go put your suitcase away."

"I'll do it later."

"Don't be lazy, goof. You have three more bags in the car. Go put this one away now and we'll deal with the other three later. Plus, with your luck you'll trip over it in half an hour if you leave it here."

"Fine. You're such a drill sergeant. Kiss." Spencer leaned down and kissed her before gently pushing her towards her bag. Calliope heaved the heavy bag up and danced towards their bedroom. Following behind her, he watched as she opened the door and shrieked. Perses jumped up from where he was laying in the middle of the bed, dropped the sock, and started barking. "Spencer! Oh my god!"

He laughed, leaning against he doorframe, as she dropped the bag for a second time and sat down on the bed, holding her hand out for the dog to sniff. Perses sniffed her hand, licked it once, before jumping into her lap and licking her face. Spencer smiled, watching his sweetheart meet her new dog.

"What's his name?"

"Check his collar."

"Perses. Oh Spencer. You named him after a titan?" Calliope giggled as she looked at the purple tag hanging off his collar.

"In a week you'll understand how fitting that name truly is."

"Are you destructive, you little cutie? Are you? Oh, but you look so sweet. I can't believe you'd destroy things. Oh! Thank you for the kisses." Spencer sat down next to her, slinking his arm around her waist, and she leaned against him. He smiled and kissed her temple. "String Bean, I love him. He's perfect. Thank you."

"Happy birthday, Sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too, Spencer. More than anything."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer sat in a chair on the deck listening to Count Basie's _Jumpin' at the Woodside_ as it filtered out over the lawn from the houses' speaker system and watching as Calliope swing danced in the grass with Dave. Derek and Penelope were dancing next to them, the four laughing and smiling. Joseph Berton, one of Calliopes' 'uncles' and the man who, at the New Years Eve party, had threatened to kill him if her hurt Calliope, sat down in the chair next to him and smiled.

"Hi Joseph. Have enough to eat?"

"More than enough," the man chuckled and patted his rotund stomach. "You are a lucky man, Dr. Reid."

"Very lucky," he agreed, smiling. "How have you been? I haven't seen you since September."

"Good. Rachel's moved the painting Callie did for her seventeen or eighteen times by now. I've patched more nail holes than I care to remember." Joseph laughed. "She just can't make up her mind."

"Maybe she's where Calliope gets her indecisiveness from," Spencer joked while he watched her trip and take down Derek when she fell.

"Toothpick, why'd you knock me out with you?" Derek laughed as he picked himself up.

"If I'm going down, I'm taking somebody with me," she teased as he picked her up and set her on her feet. "I refuse to go down alone. There's no fun in that. Cause as much chaos are possible. That's how I live."

"Don't I know it."

Spencer looked down when he felt little paws on his knee. "Hey you. Hey. That's mine." He shook his head as he picked the dog up and pried the sock from his mouth. "Perses, you need to stop stealing my socks."

"Hey! No! Put me down!" Spencer looked up again at Calliopes' yelled protest to see Eli and Isaac toting her like she was a piece of furniture. "No, no, no, no, no!"

"What are they doing?" he asked Joseph as they carted her towards the back of the property.

"Tradition. Come on. You don't want to miss this."

"I don't want to go!"

"This isn't about what you want, TooTall. This is about our own amusement."

"Please! No! I hate you both! I despise you! Loathe you! You are evil, evil people and I detest you!"

"Bree, someone else has been looking through the thesaurus too!"

"Evil! Hate! Let me down! No! Not there! No! Let me down on the ground! No, no, no, no, no!" She hit the pond water with a loud splash and the group started laughing. Perses barked happily, confused by what was going on, but excited by everyone else's excitement.

Calliope pulled herself out of the pond, sopping wet, and tried to push her mass of hair out of her eyes, spitting out water. "You are terrible cousins and I dislike both of you."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Mammy, stop it!" Calliope hissed at the woman. "If you can't be civil than you will leave, do you understand? This is our house, mine and Spencers, and if you can't behave and be polite and kind to everyone, including Spencer, you are not welcome."

"He shouldn't be here!" Brenda hissed back. "You shouldn't be with him."

"Get out! Get out of our home!" Calliope told her, pointing her plastered hand towards the door.

"Sweetheart," Spencer said softly as he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. "Stop. It's all right. Let it go."

"It's not all right, Spencer. It's wrong. It's completely wrong." Calliope said, her voice shaking. She turned around and looked up at him. He thinned his lips in anger when he saw the tears in her eyes.

"Everyone's in the living room. Why don't you go see them? I want to talk to your mammy for a minute. It's okay. No more tears, Sweetheart. Smile for me? There we go. Into the living room, okay? I think Morgan's trying to set up a game of Monopoly or something. I love you, Sweetheart." Spencer watched as she rubbed her eyes and walked out of the hallway into the room with their friends and family. "What the hell is wrong with you? This isn't about me. I know you hate me. I get it. But you made her cry. You're not hurting me; you're hurting her. You're hurting your granddaughter. She's crying at a party for her. She should be happy and laughing, not crying."

"She'd be happy and laughing if she weren't with you!"

"That makes no sense, Ms. Sellers. She was happy and laughing with me ten minutes ago. She's crying because you threw a hissy fit worthy of a toddler. I don't care if you're nice to me or if you like me. But you won't hurt Calliope. She wants you to be civil; that's what will make her happy. So you will be civil or you will leave."

"You can't make me leave. This isn't your house."

"Actually, it is. She put my name on the deed back in October."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer smiled at Calliope who had fallen asleep on the couch during the beginning of the movie. Only a handful of people were left – the cousins, Emily, J.J. Will, Kevin, Penelope and Derek. Perses had conked out hours ago, the excitement just too much for a puppy, and Calliope had put him in their bedroom.

"Ha. TooTall is out."

"I think that's our cue," Emily joked and the group got to their feet.

"Reid, you want me to take her in the room?" Derek offered.

"No, I've got her. Thanks for coming. She loved it. I'll see you guys on Monday." Spencer waited until the mob had left and only Eli and Isaac remained, each going into their respective bedrooms. "Hey, Sweetheart. Time to wake up, Calliope. Hey there, sleepyhead. Let's go to bed."

"Is everybody gone?" She yawned and got up with his help.

"Yeah. You fell asleep a while ago." Spencer closed the bedroom door behind them and Perses raised his head sleepily. "My sweatshirt is in the closet where you left it, Sweetheart."

After putting on his own pajamas, he bend down and picked up Perses, putting him back down on the bed before getting in himself. He smiled when Calliope climbed into the bed and immediately cuddled close to him. He had missed her so much. Having her pressed against him, her head resting on his chest, the reassuring beat of her heart against his side made him feel complete again. Having her with him made everything right. He was home.

"Do we have anything to do tomorrow?"

"I have to go to California, Sweetheart. Remember?"

"No, I don't," she yawned. "I'm sure you told me, but I don't remember."

"I have to go and attend a conference at the University of California in Irvine. Neuroscientist Professor James Fallon is giving a presentation. I'll only be gone one night, Calliope. I'll be back Sunday afternoon."

"Now I remember. Something about serial killers and their brains, right?"

"Simply put."

"I missed you, String Bean."

"I missed you too, Sweetheart. I love you."

"And I love you." Calliope yawned again, her eyes closing for the final time. Spencer smiled happily and held her a little tighter, closing his eyes and letting himself enjoy having her home while he fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Three chapters and two one-shots in a span of seven days! Wow! Gotta love Spring Break! However, now we go back to the regular schedule as I go back to school on Sunday and tomorrow I get to go to the ~RODEO~ with my friend and get to see Brooks and Dunn!! 3 I love my life.**

**So! I have two new one-shots, kind of like deleted scenes from _Mystery Muse_, they just didn't make the cut into the actual story. That's how all my one-shots are. These two are _Tire Swing_ and _Frozen Peas and Serial Killers_. I hope you like them!**

**If you haven't listened to _Jumpin' at the Woodside_, it's a great cut and I recommend it. Absolutely love Count Basie. Jazz is a fantastic genre.**

**Once again, the password to my photobucket is 'Calliope'. No quotations, just her name. There are pictures of both her cars and Perses and her house and Dahlia and all sorts of fun stuff.**

**Thanks so much for reading! I really hope you like this chapter, so, if you liked or hated it, tell me what you think!**

**Love, Thalia**


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

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"_I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness and the willingness to remain vulnerable." – Anne Morrow Lindbergh_

o o o o

13 November, 2009

_"You know you're safe, right?"_

_"What?" Calliope looked up at him again, confusion plain on her face._

_"Everything that's going on with Foyet. You're safe. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He tucked a lock of lime green hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. "I'll always protect you."_

_"I know, String Bean. I know." Pulling his head down to hers, she kissed him, smiling. "So protective, Dr. Reid."_

_"I can't let anything happen to you. I won't. Foyet will never lay a hand on you."_

_"Spencer, nothing's going to happen to me. You and the team will find him, get Haley and Jack out of custody, and Foyet will go away forever."_

_"I hope you're right."_

_Kissing him again, she grinned, "I'm always right."_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

García typed as fast as her fingers could move, rebuilding Foyets' laptop as quickly as possible. "Oh my god…"

_"What, García? What did you find?" Reid held his mobile phone closer against his ear. "Wait. I'm putting you on speaker. Speak loudly. We're still in the car going to Marshal Kassmeyer's house."_

"Thank God I'm better than he is. He has files on everyone he named in the letter he sent to Hotch. Everyone that the Sellers protected including the people protecting them. The two files that are largest are of Calliope, Eli and Isaac and then Will, Henry and Walt Seigl. I assume because they're in Virginia. Oh. There is a seriously cute picture of Will and Henry. If it wasn't from this sicko, I'd want to print it out and frame it."

_"Focus, García, please." Reid sighed, clutching the top of the hand-carved cane Calliope had gotten him in Florence as Morgan screeched around the corner to the road Kassmeyer lived on and slammed Reid against side of the car._

"Sorry, sorry. Okay. Next largest files is the Galens and their guards. After that it's a tie between John Cooly and Ambassador Prentiss. Then the Morgans, than Reid's dad. Mrs. Reid's file is the smallest. There's only three pictures for her and they're long distance pictures. Oh my God… Kevin has a file. Kevin wasn't in the letter! He's been targeting Kevin. I-I… Um, Foyet… he… he drafted faxes just like the one he sent about Calliope for each and every person on that list. They-they're horrible. Oh my God… each letter is worse than the last. They make the fax he did send look practically tame." García was shaking, horrified at how thought out and prepared the Reapers' plans to torture her family actually was. "Foyet had everything all planned out. He was going to try and do what he did to Reid to everyone."

_"We rushed him," Morgan said as they skidded to a stop in front of Kassmeyer's house. "We didn't give him the chance. He ran when he saw that we found out his alias."_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Eli walked into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks when he saw the entire contents of the sub-zero spread across the floor and the distinct smell of bleach tinged his nose. "TooTall?"

"Ow!" Calliope cried out as she smacked her head against the shelf she had wedged herself underneath trying to get at the very back corner of the fridge.

"Calliope, are you okay?" Eli walked over and watched as she backed out of the fridge and leaned against the kitchen island rubbing the back of her head.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just a bump on the head. I've already destroyed most of my brain cells, might as well destroy the rest of them. You know, brain cells and liver cells are the only cells that the body can't reproduce? So when you hit your head, the brain cells you lose are gone forever."

"I did. You shouldn't. You nearly failed biology. Did Spencer tell you that?"

"That was physics… and I did fail – the first two quarters anyway. I only passed the last two because of the private tutor Grandpa shelled out crazy amounts of cash for. I passed biology with a B minus."

"Right, right… physics. I think I saw less blood over the course of four tours in Iraq then you saw in one year of duking it out with your physics text book."

"Hur hur hur. Very funny. Look at me. I'm Eli, I'm so funny. Hur hur hur. You're a jerk, Eli."

"It's one of my better qualities. You, however, your sarcasm… oh, it's priceless. You get better every year."

"Oh, shut up already, Retard."

"What are you doing, TooTall?"

"Are you really as stupid as you look? You're supposed to be the smart one, Eli. What does it look like I'm doing? I'm scouring the fridge."

"Why?"

"Because I need something to do. I need something to focus on or I'll go crazy worrying about him." Calliope sighed and pushed herself up onto her feet. "What did he say when you talked to him?"

"Calliope…"

"Fine. I know. You're not supposed to tell me. It's okay to scare the pants off of me, but God forbid someone actually tells me what the hell is going on. Can I go back to scouring the refrigerator now? I don't want to give myself time to dwell on this. I'm scared, Eli, and I don't like to be scared. So I'd really like to go back to focusing on the fridge so I don't have to think about what kind of danger Spencer's putting himself in and my imagination will stop conjuring images of him looking like those pictures on the evidence board in Houston."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid covered his eyes with his hand as he heard the gunshots through the speakers of Morgans' phone. His breaths were shaky and uneven, but there was nothing he could do to steady himself. He tried to focus his mind on Hotch and Haley and Jack and Foyet, but all he saw behind his closed eyes was a pale face with a cute freckled nose, a huge crooked smile, bright hazel eyes and an untamable mane of red curls.

All he could think of was Calliope. The minute they found out Foyet sent one of the letters from Fredericksburg, he had called her and made her swear up and down on Michaelangelo's tomb that she and her cousins would stay locked in their house until he called or came home. He knew he had scared her, terrified her, but he'd rather her be scared and safe than think he wasn't serious and do something stupid.

Spencer cringed inwardly as guilt filled him. He had just heard Haley being murdered, just heard his friend and superior plead for the life of the woman he loved, and all Spencer could think about was his Calliope and whether or not she was safe.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope sat on the floor with her back against the wall, both her cell phone and the house phone in her lap, absently playing tug-of-war with Perses, the sock they had been using now completely unrecognizable. Oh well. Spencer had others. A multitude of others. None of them matching.

She glanced at the clock again and sighed. It had been six hours and forty-three minutes since Spencer had called and demanded that she swear she would stay inside with the doors locked and the alarms on. He had spoken to Eli and Isaac, but she didn't know what he said to them. She knew it wasn't good though, because as soon as they handed the phone back to her they had loaded their guns and turned the flat screen to channel two, the channel that played the footage from the security cameras.

Spencer had made her swear on Michaelangelo's tomb. The one swear he knew she'd never break no matter what. That scared her. Then he told her that he loved her. More than anything. And that she was never, ever to forget that. That absolutely terrified her. Something was wrong, horribly wrong, and she didn't know what. She was stuck in the dark, waiting.

Sometime while she had lost herself in thought her hand had stopped shaking the sock back and forth and Perses had crawling into her lap, curing into a ball and simply gnawing contentedly on the sock. Calliope smiled at the adorable dog and picked him up, squeezing him in a hug until he made a funny growling noise in protest.

"I'm sorry, cutie pie. I won't squeeze anymore. Oh, thank you for the kisses, Perses. Thank you. I love you too. Oh! Don't lick my mouth. That's gross." Calliope dragged the back of her hand over her mouth and kissed the top of the dogs' head. "Spencer certainly is a genius. Yeah, your daddy's a genius. Literally. It's very annoying at times, Perses. It's a good thing you can't understand what he's saying when he rambles. You can just tune him out. Sometimes I wish I couldn't understand him either. Heck, sometimes I can't! And I speak human too. I think. Maybe. I dunno. He is far more intelligent than I am. You were brought into a very strange household, Perses. Very, very strange. Most of that's because of me. I'm a weirdo, but I think you know that by now. Yeah, don't you? Oh, thank you for the kisses! I love the kisses. Awww, you are so sweet. Spencer definitely knew what he was doing when he got you. I love you, you cutie pie.

"I'm worried about your daddy, Perses. Something's wrong. He scared me. He never scares me. Normally he does everything he can to keep from scaring me. But today he scared me on purpose. I know he did. I might not be as smart as he is, but I'm far from stupid. He and his family… our family is in danger. They're doing something dangerous and I don't know what's going on," Calliope snuggled her face into the puppy's soft fur and sniffed, trying to keep control of her emotions. "I'm scared. I'm scared some of them might not be coming home, Perses. Foyet's back. _Really_ back. Not just 'Haha I'm playing a trick on you' back, but really, really back. I wouldn't be locked in the house if this was another unsub. Eli and Isaac wouldn't be… Perses, I'm scared."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Jack was crying. He didn't understand what was going on. Everyone around them was yelling and running back and forth and he didn't know why. He didn't know why his mommy wasn't coming no matter how much he cried for her. He didn't know why his daddy was covered in blood and looked like he was going to cry. Daddy never cried. But he was crying now. And Jack didn't understand.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Prentiss squeezed Reid's hand as they watched Hotch pick a sobbing Jack up and hold him close. J.J. walked up next to Reid and stopped, heaving a heavy, exhausted sigh.

"I can't believe it's finally over," Prentiss said, rubbing her eyes with her fists. "It doesn't feel real yet."

"I think it's going to be a long time before it feels real," J.J. nodded in agreement.

"I'm glad it's over. I just wish the ending were different," Reid pursed his lips as the coroners' assistants rolled two stretchers, each containing a body bag, out of the front door, wincing at an unwanted image of Calliope lying, unmoving, as a M.E. zipped up the body bag around her. Reid shook his head violently, wanting to shake the image from his brain. He never wanted to think of his sweetheart like that. He knew he could not have borne finding Calliope the way Hotch had found Haley.

"You okay, Spence?" J.J. asked, looking at him with concern.

"Yeah, I'm as alright as any of us. Just wanted to get rid of an image."

"I think there are a lot of images the team would like to get rid of," Rossi said as he and Morgan joined them. The five agents watched Hotch try to comfort his distraught son. None of them could say anything; their grief was too strong, too overwhelming. Rossi watched his colleagues standing next to him. Physically, they looked so young, but their eyes were those of aged, seasoned soldiers who had seen far too much in their lifetime. Rossi looked at Reid. The man was young enough to be his son, but the exhaustion and sadness in his eyes made him look decades older than he was, though, even now, the love and happiness that had recently taken root in his life still shown through the exhaustion and sadness. Rossi turned to Prentiss and frowned. She had been in the BAU the shortest amount of time, but her eyes already reflected all she had seen. Sorrow was far too rich in her eyes, but it had to share space with the faith that her work changed the world for the better. Studying J.J., Rossi shoved his hands in his pockets. Six years in the BAU showed in her blue eyes as she tearfully watched father and son, but hope still flickered behind the pain. Finally, Rossi took in Morgan. A lifetime of trusting only himself melding with the sights of this job had hardened his eyes to the untrained or casual observer, but Rossi knew better. There was pain and defensive walls, yes, but also love and a desperate need to protect those he cared about. These federal agents, these four young men and women he thought of as family, were old beyond their years and Rossi couldn't help but feel more than slightly responsible for that.

"I guess we can call our families and tell them they're safe. They don't need protection anymore," Prentiss looked down at the ground. "The Sellers don't have to pay for the body guards anymore."

"Small compensation for loosing Haley," Morgan scoffed. "You going to call Cal and tell her?"

"No," Reid replied quickly.

"Reid, she's going to find out."

"I know. I'm going to tell her, Morgan, just not over the phone. I'll tell her when I get home," Reid sighed, dreading it. "That's not the kind of news you tell Calliope, or anyone for that matter, over the phone. I just don't know how I'm going to do this. Dr. Michaels just cleared her three weeks ago. October ninetieth, he took her completely off of the Lexapro and said she was no longer suffering from PTSD, that it was simply very mild ASD, acute stress disorder. She'd be fine in a few more months. Now this… This could send her into a tailspin."

"If it does, we'll be here to help her." Morgan told him seriously. "Just like we're going be there for Hotch and Jack."

"Family takes care of family," Rossi nodded.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Hey there." Isaac poked his head into the master bedroom and saw Calliope sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard, the covers bunched around her waist and Perses curled in a ball at her feet. "How are you holding up, kiddo?"

"Eli sent you in here to check on me."

"Eli didn't send me anywhere. I came in here because I've known you your entire life and I know when you're upset."

"Should I not be upset?"

"No, I'm not saying that. Can we start this over? I came in because I wanted to see how you were doing, not engage in yet another round of CW. What are we on now? CWIX?"

"Naw, I think we're on Cousin War Fifteen, not Nineteen." Calliope smiled at him.

"Hmm… I over estimated us." Isaac smiled back. "Can I join you? Or will you bite my head off?"

"You can sit. I've shelved my fangs for the day anyways. If I wanted to bite your head off, I'd have to get out of bed, go get them, sharpen them, attach them, come back… Don't worry. I'm not that dedicated."

"Good to know." Isaac sat down on the bed next to her. "What are you up to?"

"I should miss them."

"Pardon?"

"My family. I should miss them."

Isaac looked down and realized she was holding the only picture of her family she kept out. He smiled sadly when he saw Demetrius' laughing face before slowly shifting his gaze to Orlando and Rosalind, then to his Uncle Henry and Aunt Hannah and Uncle Ben.

"I should miss them, but I don't. I don't miss them at all."

"Callie, you were three weeks old when they died."

"Yeah, but, I mean, they're my family. Those are my parents and those are my siblings. I should miss them. I should want them back, but I don't. I just… I don't." Calliope sighed and leaned her head against his arm. "You miss them. Everyone else misses them. But I don't."

"We knew them. We have memories with them. Demetrius was my best friend. You don't know them, TooTall. You don't have any memories of them. You didn't grow up with them. If you had been older when they died, it would have been different, you know that. Everyone knows that. No one thinks badly about you because you don't miss them."

"I've wondered what it would be like if they were still alive. But I had you four to grow up with. It wasn't like I was lonely. I never, like, yearned for them to be alive. Well… sometimes I really wanted a mom who wasn't fifty years older than me, but I had your mom when I really needed one. And Grandpa and Mammy never talked about them."

"You don't have to explain yourself, Callie."

"I feel so guilty."

"Why?"

"Because I don't miss them! I don't miss my family. But if something happens to one of them," Calliope showed him the second picture in her hand. It had been taken exactly a week ago at her birthday party. She smiled in Spencer's arms and the six other members of the BAU team along with Kevin and Will, joined them smiling at the camera. "I don't know what I'll do. I love them so much. Especially that wonderful goofball. I know they're fighting Foyet – oh don't try it. I wouldn't be locked in the house if this was some random unsub. I'm not as smart as Spencer, but I'm not stupid. I know they're fighting Foyet and I'm terrified that some of them might not be coming home."

"Callie, do you worry like this every time they go away?"

"No. I worry when they're on cases because there's always danger, but this is different. Regular unsubs aren't _after_ the team. They aren't specifically trying to kill the team. Foyet is. Foyet's entire focus is to hurt Aaron and as much of the team as he can. If he can kill them, he will. _They_ are the target.

"Isaac, they're like family. Not like you, obviously. I've spent my entire life being tortured by you. You hold an oh-so-special place in my heart." Calliope teased. "But I think they could be. I love them, but I didn't expect them. Hmmm… let me try that again. The team is Spencer's family. They really, really are. Those seven are a family. They love each other and would protect each other the same way the five of us would protect each other. I figured that out very quickly after I started dating Spencer from the way he talked about them. And they just reinforced it when I met them at the hospital last March. Derek hadn't left the hospital since Spencer was admitted. I just… I didn't expect them to welcome me the way they did.

"They just… they opened their arms and pulled me in. They've never made me feel like I was an outsider. They treat me like a sister. It's like they said 'Hey, you're with Spencer, you're part of the family now.' Even silent, stoic Aaron. He welcomed me in his own subtle way. Much different from Penelope. Haha, she made me a poster. No, I'm serious. She made me a poster. It has glitter. It made me happy."

"Anything with glitter makes you happy."

"Too true."

"They are all coming home, TooTall. They take care of each other. They won't let anything happen to any of them. Plus, they have S.W.A.T. with them. They'll be fine."

"S.W.A.T.?" Calliope looked up at him skeptically. "I don't trust S.W.A.T. anymore. Look what they did to my wrist. Do I look threatening to you?"

"Possibly. I'm not sure. Let me think about it and I'll get back to you."

"Very funny, Isaac. You and your brother. You're both just regular Bernie Macs."

"I'm as good as Bernie Mac?"

"No. I was flattering you."

"I thought so." Isaac hugged her, laughing. "You feeling a little better?"

"Not really. I still feel guilty."

"TooTall, listen to me. Look at me, kiddo. Do not feel guilty. That's the last thing those five would want. They don't want you to feel guilty for being happy with your life. They want you to be happy. They don't want you to spend every day sad and miserable because they aren't here. It's not your fault that they're gone and it's not your fault that you don't miss them. You have no memories of them. You can't miss something you never knew."

"But I… I love people I've known for less than a year more than my own family. I'd be more devastated by losing one of them than I am by the fact that they're already gone. I just… I can't… I don't know, Isaac. I don't know how to reconcile that."

"I know how. Calliope, your family – your mom, your dad, your brothers and sister – they all want you to be happy. They want you to love people and have a family even though they aren't here. And you have a family. You have Uncle Ben and Aunt Brenda, Uncle Joseph and Aunt Rachel, my mom and dad, Eli and our two weirdo sisters, your crazy friend Jill and her sister Keely, you have me. But now you've found another family who loves you almost as much as we do. I say almost because no one can love you as much as we do. I think the only one who can come close is that man right there. He loves you so much that he worries about you every second that you aren't within his line of sight. Those people love you both because Spencer loves you and because you brighten their lives after all the horrible things they see with the same intensity with which they complete your life. Your family wants you to have a family so don't feel guilty for having one and for loving them."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer drove slowly up the winding service road to his house later that evening. The leaves desperately needed to be raked away from the edges of the road as half of the leaves from the trees that the road wound through currently coated the ground. The rest of the red and gold leaves barely clung to the branches and pretty soon they would join those that had already fallen. Taking the last turn, the house came into view and Spencer smiled. The two wind chimes were swaying slightly, just enough for the chimes to resonate, and Spencer remembered spending an almost-too-perfect afternoon sitting in the sun on the porch reading aloud while Calliope painted the copper wind chimes and then coated them with sealant. It was hard for him to believe that it had been seven months since that afternoon. So much had happened in those seven months that they felt like years.

Pulling into the garage, he put the car in park and turned off the engine, leaning his head back against the headrest for a brief moment and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and got out of the car; walking around it, he unlocked the door to the house and went in, closing and locking the door behind him. Spencer could hear Perses start to bark in the bedroom, heard the door open and the barking got louder. He could hear the pattering of the dog running towards him and Calliope's light footsteps as she came around the corner into view.

"Spencer…" Calliope ran towards him and he held her close, giving her a fierce kiss. "You're okay."

"I'm fine, Sweetheart. I'm fine. It's over."

"It's over? Really over? They've got Foyet?"

"Foyet's dead. It's really over."

"Oh thank God." Calliope closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest. Spencer closed his eyes as well and tightened his hold on her, kissing the top of her head. "Is the team okay? Is everyone alright?"

"The team's fine. None of us are hurt."

"How are Haley and Jack? Are they out of custody yet? Has Aaron gotten to see them? Are they –" Spencer cut off Calliope's stream of questions by kissing her again, smiling when her arms tangled around his neck and her fingers knotted in his hair.

"Jack's fine. He's with Hotch."

"I knew you'd catch Foyet. I knew you guys could do it." Calliope beamed up at him and he felt guilty for letting her think the world hadn't stopped spinning several hours ago. She bent down and picked up the whining dog, scratching under his chin. "What? Are you not getting enough attention? Daddy came home and he didn't say hi? Is that it? Say hi before you give the dog a complex."

"You're worried about _me_ giving the dog a complex?" he asked as he nonetheless scratched behind the dogs' ear.

"I would never give anything a complex!"

"Of course not."

"I need to go call Haley. No, I should wait. I'm sure she wants to talk to her mom and dad and her sister and brother first. I'll call her in a few days."

"Sweetheart, we need to talk." Spencer said seriously, taking the dog from her and putting him back down on the ground.

"What's wrong?"

"Foyet… he, uh, he is dead, but we didn't get him in time."

"In time? What are you talking about? Oh no. Is Derek okay? He's the one that does reckless things. Did he…?"

"Morgan's fine. The entire team is fine. None of us were hurt. Calliope, Foyet murdered Haley. We didn't get there in time. We – we couldn't save her."

"Sp-Spencer… that… that isn't funny. Stop it."

"I know it's not funny."

"Stop it, Spencer. Just stop it!" Calliope screamed and pushed him away when he tried to wrap his arms around her. "Don't do that! That's not funny and you shouldn't say things like that!"

"Calliope, I'm sorry. We tried to –"

"Spencer! Stop it! Just stop it." Calliope stepped back, farther out of his reach and her eyes were wide with panic.

Wincing, he leaned the cane against the wall and limped over to her without it. Spencer pulled her close, holding her tightly while she struggled against his arms. "I know, Sweetheart. I know."

"No! No! Spencer, stop it! Stop lying to me! It's not funny." She kept pushing against his chest as she tried to get away from him, but he didn't let go. She started to cry and pound her fists against him, the cast on her left arm beating harder. "Let go, Spencer! Let go!"

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I'm sorry." Spencer kissed her forehead and ran a hand over her hair.

"Are you sure?" Calliope looked up at him and his heart broke at her watery eyes and the tears on her cheeks. He nodded sadly and held her securely when she broke into fresh tears. After a few minutes he lead her, limping, over to the couch and cuddled her close while she cried.

"This is my fault…" Calliope whispered against his shoulder.

"What?"

"It's my fault. Foyet got to Haley because of me."

"What are you talking about?" Spencer's brow furrowed and he looked down at her, completely confused.

"Haley called me a month ago. Foyet found her because she called me, didn't he? You said that people in the Marshal service aren't allowed talk to their families and friends because their phone calls can be tracked. And Haley called me. If I'd known it was her I wouldn't have picked up. I didn't know it was her. It wasn't her cell phone. I didn't recognize the number. So I picked up. I got Haley killed."

"No, Sweetheart, no. You didn't. I promise, you didn't. Foyet didn't know where Haley was. He tricked Haley into coming to him by using Marshal Kassmeyer's phone and telling her Kassmeyer and Hotch were dead and that she and Jack were vulnerable. He had no idea where Haley was. Her calling you was not the reason she died. I promise you, Sweetheart, you had nothing to do with this."

Calliope started sobbing again, holding onto him as he soothingly ran his fingers through her hair, resting his cheek against the top of her hair and finally letting his own grief take over. His tears were both from loosing Haley and for Hotch and Jack, but also for how easily Haley could have been Calliope. A simple change of Foyet's mind last January and his target could have shifted from Hotch to any other member of the team. It could have been him; it could have been Calliope lying dead on the floor of their bedroom covered in her own blood with Foyet waiting for him. His world could have been murdered with a quick, uncaring change of Foyet's mind.

Spencer kissed her forehead and squeezed her shoulders as they shook. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart."

"Are you sure she's gone? I mean… is there… She can't be gone, Spencer. She can't be gone. Jack and Aaron. Oh God, Spencer."

"We'll be there for them whenever they need it," Spencer said into her hair. "Jack and Hotch are our family. We'll be there for them. Family takes care of family."

"Tell me the truth. Is Jack okay? Really okay? Did Foyet hurt him at all?"

"No. Jack is completely unharmed, Sweetheart. Completely. He was checked out by the medical examiner, just in case, and he's absolutely fine. Foyet never touched him."

"Did he… Did Jack Attack see Foyet kill Haley?"

"No. Hotch got to talk to Haley before Foyet… before she died, and he had Jack hide. Jack didn't see anything. When Hotch got there, Foyet was waiting for him. They fought, Foyet died in the fight and Hotch saved Jack."

"Aaron killed Foyet, didn't he?"

"To save Jack, yes."

"And you're absolutely sure Jack is okay?"

"Yes. I'm absolutely sure."

Calliope took a few shaky breaths and buried her face in his blue sweater vest for a few moments before pulling back. She wiped her bloodshot eyes with her palms and then wiped her nose. "I think I want to go lie down. I'm sorry, Spencer. I need to lie down."

"Sweetheart, you don't need to apologize," he whispered as he leaned his head down and kissed her. "I'll be in soon, okay? I need to talk to Eli and Isaac."

"I know," she nodded and stood up. "I, uh… I left your dinner in the fridge. It's just leftovers. I was too nervous to cook anything and I didn't think to order dinner. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I'm not hungry, anyways." Spencer watched as she went into their bedroom and closed the door behind her. Tears spilled fresh as he leaned his head back against the couch, his breathing shaky and uneven. He heard a pair of heavy footsteps enter the room and knew the two brothers were there, but he didn't acknowledge their presence. He was too exhausted, too relieved, too full of grief to care if the Marines saw him crying.

Eli offered him a beer, but he shook his head. He'd fallen into an addiction once, into a crutch so he didn't have to face reality, and he would never let himself do that again. It was easier to close the door upfront than close it once a foot stood halfway through. Plus, he knew Calliope wasn't finished crying and grieving tonight. She would still need him. She needed him to be alert and ready for when this pain and sadness hit her again.

"It's over?" Isaac was the one that finally broke the silence.

"Foyet's dead." Spencer stated, his voice tired. "But he killed Haley Hotchner before we got there. We couldn't save her. We didn't get there in time."

"I'm sorry, man," Eli sighed and Isaac parroted the sentiment. "What about Hotchner's son?"

"Jack's safe. Foyet didn't touch him. He's scared and confused, but he's physically unscathed. Hotch has Jack with him." Spencer wiped a hand over his face, and dried his eyes. "It could have been her. It could have been Calliope."

"But it wasn't, Spencer. It wasn't her. She's safe. Calliope's in your bedroom waitin' for you. Your decisions kept her safe. That's all you or any of us really need to know." Isaac told him. "Do you want us to stay or do you think we should head back to Williamsburg?"

"Are you alert enough to drive two hours back home?" Spencer asked. "What time is it anyways?"

"Ten thirty-something. We'll be fine. That's what Starbucks is for, right?" Eli joked. "Besides, she needs you and you both need some privacy. You haven't had any in months. We'll grab some stuff and then come back for the rest later. Let us know when Haley's funeral is, okay?"

"I will. Thank you both. So much. I really can't tell you how much I appreciate you and everything that you've done since June."

"She's our cousin, Spencer. She may look absolutely nothing like us, but she's our blood. She's family and we don't let anybody hurt our family." Isaac looked at him seriously. "We love that girl, hell, all of Williamsburg loves that girl, you love that girl."

"I do. Very much."

"We know." Eli smiled at him. "Even if you hadn't asked us, we'd be here. Because she's our family and we love her. But she's safe now, devastated, but safe, and it's time we leave you two alone."

"We'll see ourselves out," Isaac said. "Go on. She's waiting for you."

"Thanks," Spencer said again before limping over to where he had left his cane and making his way to his bedroom.

"Spencer?" Her voice was soft and, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see her huddled under the covers in the middle of their bed.

"I'm here, Sweetheart. I'm going to get changed and then I'll be right there." Within a few minutes, he was slipping underneath the covers and he smiled sadly when she immediately rolled over and nestled herself into his embrace. He kissed her forehead and held her tightly as she tried to sniff back tears. "I know, Calliope."

"She was my friend, Spencer. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to… I didn't want you to think I couldn't handle your job. It was childish, I know. I'm sorry."

"I know."

"You knew?" Calliope looked up at him. "Of course you knew. I even told Ethel I can't lie to you, so why would I have even thought I could keep a secret from you? I'm so stupid."

"No, you're not. You are many things, but stupid is not one of them."

"I can't believe it believe Haley's dead." The dam broke and Calliope began bawling again. Spencer held her while she sobbed, crying off-and-on as well, and, sometime during the night, they both finally succumbed to sleep.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Oh. My. God. Writing this chapter was CRAZY hard.**

**"100" was such a great episode. But I absolutely hated losing Haley. I totally loved her. Thank God they saved Jack, because I would have gone completely ballistic on my TV if they hadn't. Completely ballistic. And I can't afford a new TV, so it's a good thing they saved Jack. I cry so hard every time I see it. I mean, legit crying.**

**I really hope you like it. I hope it made you cry, because I went through pretty much an entire box of tissues writing it. I think part of that is because my allergies are going HAY~WIRE! I have a love/hate relationship with Spring. I love Spring, but Spring tries to kill me. It's not nice. :(**

**Thank you so much for reading and please tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

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"_There is no stronger bond of friendship than a mutual enemy." – Frankfort Moore_

o o o o

16 November, 2009

Spencer shifted slightly as his body fought to stay asleep, but his mind reacted to both the alarm clocks' shrill beeping on the nightstand and the cold, empty space beside him. Eventually, his mind won and he switched off the alarm clock, rubbing his eyes and groaning. He was tired and he didn't want to wake up. If he woke up, he would have to get ready for work and all that waited for him at work was a lengthy and brutal witch-hunt led by the pitchfork wielding Chief Strauss.

Opening his eyes, his sight confirmed what the cold sheets had already told him: Calliope wasn't lying next to him and, judging by the temperature of the sheets, she hadn't been for at least an hour. Spencer glanced at the clock again, wanting to make sure it was actually six in the morning. It was. It was also the third morning in a row he'd woken up by himself. Considering that before Haley's death three days ago Calliope had only woken up before him once, the fact that she had awoken first the past three mornings was telling.

He decided to shower and get ready for work before venturing out into the house to find her. Rolling out of bed and padding into the bathroom, he shivered. The room was uncharacteristically cold and he made a mental note to check on the heater. Maybe it needed to be replaced. Maybe it wasn't broken. Maybe it was off. Maybe they should get a technician out to look at it. Maybe, if it was broken, they should look at different types of heaters. Maybe he should find out what kind of heater the house had to begin with. Spencer shoved the thoughts away – it was too early in the morning, even for his brain, to be thinking about chores and things that needed to be done.

Fully dressed, Spencer opened the door to the rest of the house and shivered again when the cold air hit him fresh. The heater was growing in importance on his list of things to do today. Now, it rested in the number two spot right after taking Perses out into the backyard to go to the bathroom. Perses already sat next to the French doors that lead to the backyard making the soft whining noises that could be directly translated to 'I see you, Daddy/Mommy. I know you see me. If you don't let me out right now, I'm going to start barking. And, if I have to start barking, I will resort to forgoing the backyard altogether, running around the house and peeing on the carpet, even if you open the backdoor after I start barking. So open it now before I start barking or I shall pee on the carpet. Aren't I adorable even as I plot deviously?'

The air outside on the porch was warmer than the air inside the house. That was wrong on so many levels considering the outdoor temperature wasn't all the high to begin with. Perses wagged his tail happily as he bounded back up the steps onto the porch where Spencer stood waiting for him. As soon as the door closed behind him, Spencer watched Perses run over to his always-full food bowl and began chomping before he walked over the heating and air conditioning control panel.

It was off. Why on earth was the heater turned off in November? Shaking his head in confusion, Spencer pushed a button and listened while the furnace hummed to life. A year ago, he would have still been wondering why the heater had been shut off as he walked through the house towards the painting studio, but now he simply accepted it as fact, knowing that there really was no reason why. He had, generally, stopped trying to understand or rationalize Calliope's somewhat erratic behavior. There was rarely a coherent explanation… that is if she offered one at all.

"Good morning, Sweetheart," he smiled seeing her perched on her painting stool, wrapped in the pink and yellow afghan. "I see you've managed to figure out how to paint despite the cast."

"Morning, String Bean." Calliope didn't turn to look at him when he entered the studio and walked up behind her. "Yes, I finally beat my hand into submission."

"You cut out a chunk of your cast with a box cutter," Spencer deadpanned when her cast came into view and he spotted the box cutter lying innocently next to a curved rectangle of plaster and bright purple plastic on the table that housed the paints she used.

"Yes, I did," Calliope stated factually and without shame or remorse.

"Calliope, you shouldn't have mutilated your cast."

"I need to paint, Spencer. I _need_ it. The cast was a casualty of war. I won, so I feel no mercy. The victors write the history books and I'm writing it so that the cast was an evil, evil dictator and I mercifully liberated my thumb from under the thumb of the malicious dictator Fidel Casto. That's how the story goes."

"Fidel Casto, huh? And if your wrist heals incorrectly and they have to re-break the bone, reset it with surgery and start the healing process over?"

"I'll blame you."

"Of course you will." Rolling his eyes, Spencer pressed a kiss to the back of her head and looked at the canvas. Even half-finished the painting was astonishing, almost breathtaking. The latest of her grey-scale paintings, he could only assume it represented Haley. The sunrise _looked_ like Haley. The landscape, the lake, the sky were all varying, painstakingly picked and blended shades of grey and, in the center of the canvas, shown a brilliantly golden sun, the golden rays emanating around it until they bled seamlessly into the grey-scale that was the sunrise. "It looks beautiful, Sweetheart. Absolutely beautiful."

"Haley deserves beautiful. She deserves more than this; she deserves the world, but this is all I have. This is all I can give her."

"Yes, she does. And this is perfect, Calliope. She… she would have loved this. She would have picked it out. You must have been up for hours to paint this much."

"I couldn't sleep. I woke up around one and couldn't stop thinking about her."

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart." Spencer kissed the back of her head and sighed before speaking again. "What do you have to do today? Anything?"

"Jessica asked for some help down at the funeral home. Not making decisions or anything like that, at least I don't think so. I hope not. I assume she's hoping that my being there would offer support and such. Every time she or her mom tries, they break down. Her dad can't even go there. He just can't. I don't want to go, Spencer. I don't want to be there. I… I don't want to think about how she's going into the ground. But someone has to and I guess my name's on the ballot. I was kind of surprised she asked me. Jessica, I mean. I only met her once. I still don't know why she asked, but it's not like I could or would have said no. I don't own anything black, Spencer."

"What?" Spencer had followed her until that last sentence.

"I don't own anything black. I don't even own a pair of black slacks, Spencer. I don't own a black T-shirt, much less a black dress shirt. I have that black dress, but it's not really black. It's mostly bright pink with the black lace over the pink. You can't wear that to a funeral home, much less a funeral!"

"Oh. Sweetheart, you don't have to wear black to the funeral home. I'm sure you can find something before the funeral. You should go with García. Maybe if you two go together it won't be as bad."

"I suppose. Maybe you're right. After the funeral home, I have to oversee some more stuff at Aaron's house. Yesterday they ripped out all the bloody carpet and replaced it. Today, I think they're going to repair a hole in the wall, fix the spots where the curtain rod was torn from the wall and then reattach it, repaint the entire house, and fix a few scratches in the hardwood. I don't know how they fix scratches, but they said they could do it without putting in new boards. The crew does the maintenance work on Dahlia, so if Grandpa trusts them with Dahlia, I'll trust them with Aaron's house. Is Aaron still trying to give you a check to give to me to cover the repairs?"

"Yes. I keep telling him you refuse to take it, but I think he just needs to know for himself that he tried."

"It's silly. Make sure he knows I don't expect anything in return. I'm doing this for me as much as for him and Jack. For Haley."

"He knows. It's his pride."

"I know. Men are silly."

"We are. While we're talking about concrete facts, another one is that you look absolutely stunning when you're painting," Spencer wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her temple when she put the paintbrush down on the table.

"You're a suck up." Calliope turned her head to kiss him and the afghan slipped from her left shoulder.

"You aren't wearing any clothes under the blanket," Spencer closed his eyes when he saw her bare shoulder and took a deep breath. "Why aren't you wearing anything?"

"Well, you kind of threw my pajama bottoms and my tank top somewhere last night so I wasn't exactly wearing anything when I fell asleep," Calliope teased, her breath warm against his ear.

"I know what happened last night, crazy. Why did you feel the need to recreate that scene from _The Notebook_?"

"I needed to paint, Spencer, I really, really needed to paint, but I didn't want to wake you up by getting dressed. You, my love, are an exceedingly light sleeper. Wind would wake you up. Why? Am I turning you on, Dr. Reid?"

"Very much," Spencer kissed her again, pulling the blanket around her more securely. "Unfortunately, I have to wait until tonight to show you exactly how much, because if there were ever a day not to be late to work, this would be that day."

"Witch-hunt day at the B.A.U.?"

"Precisely."

"Give her hell."

"Sweetheart…"

"Fine. Just confuse her a little."

"You are very vengeful."

"I'm English."

"That makes no sense. Vengefulness is not a typical stereotype for the English."

"I know. I didn't think it through. If I had, I would have said I'm a Southern Bell and we can all pull Scarlett O'Haras when we want to."

"I love you," Spencer laughed and kissed her.

"I love you too. Hey, you remember how that scene in _The Notebook_ ends?"

"Don't even say it. That makes it a possibility. I do not want your mammy coming out her to find you painting in nothing but a blanket. She would kill me without a second thought or glance."

"She totally would." Calliope laughed outright, her head thrown back and her hair streaming down her back, shaking as she laughed, and Spencer smiled. "Do you think she's going to have a torch?"

"Brenda? No, she'd go for the quick and easy kill. She'd use a gun."

"No, not Mammy," Calliope grimaced. "Mammy wouldn't actually kill you. Think about it, maybe. But actually kill you, no. She knows that would completely break my heart. No, I meant, Chief Shit for Brains."

"Oh, Chief Strauss? Probably. She already has the noose and gallows ready for Hotch. She's trying to pin all of this on him."

"I know. Hence her oh-so-apt nickname. Oh! Go! If you don't go now, you'll be late! Wait! Kiss before you go." Spencer turned her around, the seat of the stool swiveling squeakily, and leaned down, kissing her passionately. Calliope cupped her palm to his jaw, the tips of her fingers tangling in his hair. "Mmm… Dr. Reid, you are making it very hard for me to let you go to work."

"I love you. I'll see you tonight."

"I love you too. Give her hell. Confuse her! Sorry. Shesh. Oh. Don't forget to tell the team they're invited to dinner if they want. None of you should have to cook tonight. I'm going to attempt lasagna, but, if I fail, we'll have pasta. Hey, don't make fun. I trained to paint, not cook. Are you sure you should wear _that_ today? That's really not a, uh, great outfit. It's actually pretty bad."

"I have to go, goof," Spencer laughed, pulling away and walking out of the studio, calling behind him, "Disparage my clothing choice as I leave."

"Never wear that outfit again!" she called laughing as his footsteps got farther and farther away. She heard him open the door to the garage and gave a last laughing shout before he could close the door behind him. "You should be arrested for crimes against fashion!"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope sat outside of Schmidt Funeral Home in her Cayenne fiddling with the handles of her purse Leaning forward a little, she gathered her hair into her hands and pulled it into a loose, messy bun at the nap of her neck. Why had she agreed to this again? She didn't want to be here. Oh, right. Haley. Her promise to Haley. That's why she was here: to keep her promise to Haley.

Sighing in resignation, she tugged the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car, waiting until the SUV flashed its' lights and honked to signal that it had locked and the alarm was active. After another deep breath she pulled open the door to the funeral home and walked inside. Mrs. Brooks and Jessica Brooks stood in the foyer talking to an employee.

"Calliope. Thank God you're here. Mom, this is Calliope Sellers; Calliope, this is my mother Catherine Brooks." Jessica gave her a quick hug before making the introductions.

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Brooks." Calliope shook the woman's hand and offered a sad smile. "I wish the circumstances were different."

"So do I," the woman agreed tearfully. "You must be the 'Aunt Callie' Jack keeps talking about."

"That would probably be me, unless there's another 'Aunt Callie' that I don't know about. Mostly good, I hope?"

"Jack adores you," Catherine told her. "And Haley speaks… Spoke. Haley _spoke_ highly of you as well."

"Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me."

"What happened to your arm?" Jessica asked, gesturing at the cast.

"S.W.A.T., as unbelievable as it sounds." Calliope grinned at the disbelieving expressions on the women's faces. "Two two hundred and fifty pound, fully geared S.W.A.T. agents tackled me."

"S.W.A.T. tackled you?"

"Long and complicated story."

"You should really get that broken piece fixed. Your break will heal incorrectly if your thumb moves around."

"Yeah, Spencer scolded me for cutting that chunk out already."

"You cut your cast?" Catherine looked at her, amazed.

"Yes. With a box cutter. It took a lot of sawing, but I managed to do it. I'm just surprised I didn't slip and slice my hand open. Oh. Why. You want to know why. Duh, Calliope. I'm, uh, I'm left handed and I'm a painter and this morning I really needed to paint. So that bit of the cast had to go because I couldn't hold the paintbrush with it there. I know; I'm a little hardheaded. Spencer tells me that constantly."

"What were you painting?" Jessica asked her.

"Haley."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"You left for Marshall Kassmeyer's house immediately."

"Yes, ma'am," Reid answered quickly, fiddling his thumbs against each other while his hands sat clasped in his lap. He wanted to get this over with. Nothing good could possibly come from this internal investigation, nothing productive. Trying to assign blame for something that a now dead man was solely responsible for was not only futile, but also rather dangerous. Surely Section Chief Erin Strauss knew that. No one climbed the leadership ladder in the FBI by being unintelligent. She knew the dangerous road she led them all down.

What Reid wanted to know was why she chose this road, treacherous as it was. Did she simply not care about their team, about Hotch, to whom she so callously tried to assign blame, or was she trying to save their team, desperately hoping their statements would corroborate in a way that exonerated them of possible misconduct? It all came down to why. Not only the integrity of this investigation but also the core integrity of Chief Strauss' character. And Reid very much wanted to know the answer to that question.

"Wouldn't this be a job for a tactical team?"

"We felt that it would take too much time to get authorization for another operation."

"We?" Chief Strauss leaned against one of the black chairs, gesturing her hands to emphasis her question as if he might not understand what she meant, what she implied, when she questioned his use of 'we' instead of, possibly, 'he.'

"All of us." Reid resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He could feel a stiff piece of paper in his pocket poking through the cloth to stab his thigh when he shifted slightly. Remembering, he bit back a smile. He had found the bright neon pink index card folded in his wallet earlier when he paid the vending machine a quick visit to buy a Coke. He never used the pink index cards that quite literally littered their house with large, loopy handwriting sprawled carelessly across them, so he knew immediately who the culprit was. Unfolding the card, he had smiled. Pasted onto the blank side like a child's craft were four words in different fonts cut from magazines.

_You are my sunshine_.

How was it that she almost always knew when he needed something like that? A simple, uncomplicated reminder that someone loved him, someone needed him, someone cared about him enough to notice his needs, someone wanted to go out of their way to make him smile and feel loved.

"Don't you mean Agent Hotchner wanted that?"

"No, I mean all of us wanted that. I know what you're thinking, and I agree. It would be easy to blame him."

"Easy?" She crossed her arms over her chest and came close to scowling, but managed to keep her face almost passive. He had touched a nerve, but, rather than feeling properly remorseful for speaking such to his superior, he felt a juvenile liberation in his lack of remorse, if not a complete vindication in speaking the truth regardless of its' consequences towards his position in the BAU as well as the FBI. What was it Calliope had said before he left? Something along the lines of _'Give Chief Shit for Brains hell?'_ Well… why not? If he was going to risk his job in defense of his team, he might as well do it properly.

"Yeah. Why not just say it's his fault and then we can all just forget about it, but, uh, the problem is – I have an eidetic memory and that's not what happened."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope held Catherine's hand in hers while she reached into her giant purse with her plastered hand and pulled out a square box of Puffs Plus with Lotion, offering it first to Catherine who took a handful and then to Jessica. She had thought ahead. Funeral homes, like hospitals, went through tissues faster than anything else and always stocked the cheap, scratchy type that left a persons' nose raw and chaffed. She had known she would be crying along with Haley's mother and sister and she wanted decent tissues. She pulled out a tissue for herself and rubbed at her eyes, very glad she had decided not to wear makeup today, because she knew eyeliner would be covering her cheeks right now if she had.

"You want the cream satin lining, is that correct, Mrs. Brooks?" The kind, portly man sitting across the desk from them was patient. He had waited repeatedly for the women to collect themselves while one or two or all three of them took turns crying or breaking down. Calliope wasn't exactly sure what good she was doing here as she kept crying as much as Catherine and Jessica, but they seemed to be relieved by and of her presence.

"Yes. Um, and the black ca-casket, yes, that one, with the stainless steel handles." Catherine wiped a few tears from her eyes with a tissue. A parent was never supposed to bury their child.

"Do you have your own officiant or would you like us to provide one?"

"We, um, her father spoke to Father Ullman. He… he christened her when she was born… baptized her… he gave her her first communion and oversaw her confirmation… he officiated at her wedding… and now," Christine gasped back sobs, "and now he'll bury her. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Jessica hugged her mom as the woman who had been the pillar of their family strength for as long as Jessica could remember cried out her broken heart, her sorrow pure agony.

"What's left?" Calliope asked the man quietly and read the last few items on the list he held out to her. "Mrs. Brooks, Jessica, I… I can finish this if you want. There are only a few things left."

"Thank you," Jessica smiled gratefully before helping her mom up and guiding her out of the office. Calliope waited until the door had closed behind the two grieving blondes before taking a deep breath, opening her eyes and looking at the graying man in front of her.

"Okay. Let's do this."

"Mrs. Brooks said that, since the wounds cannot not be seen once Mrs. Hotchner is lying in the casket, they would like to have a short viewing only for family and close friends preceding the outdoor service. Ms. Brooks was supposed to bring the clothing."

"Uh, yes… I saw her with a bag. Did she take it out… Oh, no. I see it," Calliope got up from her chair to pick up the paper bag that sat next to the chair Jessica had been sitting in. She looked inside, checking to make sure, and handed it to the man when she saw it held undergarments, a pair of strappy white heels and a silk dress in a sweet shade of robins egg blue. "I have something. Just a second."

Calliope turned around and dug in her purse until she found the thin, flat box she had put at the bottom of the bag. She handed the man the brown box and wiped her eyes. "Here. It's a silk scarf. It's her favorite colour, pastel pink, so it should match nicely. It was, uh, it was supposed to be her Christmas present."

He smiled kindly at her as he slipped the box into the paper bag with the rest of Haley's clothing. Together they went over the last few details – a quick question about her makeup and hair, check of the spelling and dates on her tombstone, and the number of white roses to be ordered. Once Calliope was certain the details that were on the formal sheets matched those in the notebook Jessica had left in the room, she brought Jessica back in to sign everything while she waited outside with Catherine.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"And, in your opinion, Agent Hotchner is not to blame for how events turned out?" Chief Strauss still stood across the table from him, but Reid saw she was leaning on the chair a little more than she had been before. Her feet were getting tired. This was her fourth interview today and she'd probably stood for all of them. She wanted to sit, but her pride wouldn't let her. Standing up, lording over him, she felt powerful; she was in control of the situation and wanted him to know it. Reid didn't analyze her behavior purposefully; it was simply a sometimes-unwanted side effect that came from half a decade of analyzing behavior for a living. However, the more he noticed and learned about her from her actions, the more he found himself pitying her.

Did she really feel so insecure in her own personal life that she had to make sure that people knew she held the power in her professional life? As if standing over him as a physical representation of judge and executioner gave her more power than the knowledge that she commanded these series of interviews that felt more like interrogations. Maybe she shouldn't have given him the ultimatum of seeing a psychologist or being suspended – though he wouldn't deny talking to Dr. Michaels had helped – when it seemed she had far more pressing issues than he.

"No, Ma'am." Reid told her for what felt like the fiftieth time. "No one is to blame for how Friday unfolded, for the death of Haley Hotchner, except for George Foyet. Unfortunately, a dead man cannot stand trail or answer for his actions, for what he is. George Foyet was a ruthless, cold blooded murder who derived pleasure from watching people suffer at his hands."

"But surely Agent Hotchner could have handled the investigation more effectively, possibly creating a different outcome?"

"Firstly, Agent Hotchner did not head the investigation into Foyet. SSA Derek Morgan was acting Unit Chief and thus led the investigation, but we all devoted ourselves to finding and stopping The Reaper. We work as a team and this case was no different. Secondly, every member of this team is going to spend the rest of their lives, myself included, wondering about all the possible 'what-if's that could have happened. Our handling of the case followed protocol and we did everything within our power to prevent Foyet from killing again. But only Foyet can be held accountable for what he did. It's not fair or right to try and hold this team accountable for it."

"You seem very passionate about this, Dr. Reid. Why?"

"Foyet wasn't just attacking Agent Hotchner's family. He was attacking the families of our entire team. He delivered a letter to Agent Hotchner, a taunt, before the two he sent to Karl Arnold. You read it. We gave the letter directly to you that following Monday. Foyet put all of our loved ones in danger, not only Haley and Jack Hotchner. We all worried that Foyet would take away the people that mattered most to us.

"I know the fear Agent Hotchner felt last Friday. Foyet's plan was cruel and frighteningly well thought out and a month ago, on October fourteenth, he led our team to believe that he had murdered my girlfriend Calliope Sellers along with the two men protecting her, Marines Eli and Isaac Gregg. The team was working a case in Houston at the time so we could only rely on second hand information and she wasn't picking up her phone and Technical Analyst García could not track any of their phones because they had been turned off. Foyet was watching them; he waited until they went to a movie before putting his plan into action because most people turn their phones on in movie theaters. The three bodies in the pictures he sent us claiming they were Calliope, Eli and Isaac are still unidentified. Calliope was 'missing' for five hours. It was the most terrifying five hours of my life."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope walked through the Hotchner's house inspecting the work that had been done. The scratches in the hardwood had somehow been removed, the walls looked like they had never had holes. She had no idea how the crew had accomplished what they had in such a short time, but that was why she was the one paying them and why they were paid very well.

"It looks great, Ross. You've done a great job. Thank you."

"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you."

"Here are your checks. There's a bonus for each of you for finishing so quickly and with such tact and respect for Aaron and the Brooks. It's very much appreciated. Um, when you get back to Williamsburg file your expenses with Mary Dawson at Dahlia. She works eight am to noon on the weekdays. Tell her to put them directly in my inbox and I will reimburse you first thing."

"Thank you, Miss Calliope. And thank you for the job." Ross shook her hand and took the wad of envelopes.

"You're the best. I wouldn't have given you the job if you weren't. You know I don't give handouts. If you're all packed up, I'll lock everything up. Are you? Okay, awesome. Let's go."

Once back in her Cayenne, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back, letting the work trucks go out before she did. It took a while for her to collect herself and drive out of the driveway and the gated community. She wanted to go home. Pulling out her cell phone, she quickly typed out a text message as she drove and sent it to Spencer.

_ How's your hell day been? Mine's been shit._

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Hey Jack. Can you come here for a minute?" Spencer smiled as he entered the roundtable room and knelt down as best he could with his knee so he was on the same height level as the sweet four-year-old before him. The entire team was there, except for Emily, who had just begun her go-round with Chief Strauss. "Hi, Jack."

"Hi, Uncle Spensor," Jack still acted shyly around Spencer, even though he'd known him his entire life as a combination of 'Dr. Reid' and 'Uncle Spensor.' The child's innocent mispronunciation of his name softened his heart as he reached into his pocket.

"I have something for you. From your Aunt Callie."

"Aunt Callie? Can I see her again?"

"Yes, Jack. You get to see Aunt Callie again," Spencer smiled, shifting slightly to get pressure off of his knee. "But she's with your Aunt Jessica right now. You get to see her tonight, though. She can't wait to see you. She misses you."

"I misseded Aunt Callie too."

"I have something for you. Aunt Callie wanted me to give it to you." Spencer pulled out the bright neon pink index card and handed it to the little boy.

Jack unfolded the paper with small fingers and fumbled over the words, pointing to each word as he sounded them out like his mommy had taught him. "You ah-ahre are… you are my suuhhn-soohn-suuunn-sunshieen-sunshiiahn… you are my sunshiiine. You are my sunshine. You are my sunshine! Like the song she singed at the park. She singed it because I make her happy."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Derek took a second helping of lasagna, making a slight face when he cut off the crispy edges. Turning to Spencer, he raised his eyebrows in question. Spencer simply smiled and took another bite of his.

"Well, it's edible," Derek said quietly and shook his head.

"Hey. I heard that," Calliope nailed him with a deftly tossed spoon. "He picked a painter, not a cook. If he wanted someone who could cook him into a coma, he'd be dating Breelyn, not me. I did not inherit the mad cooking gene."

Penelope smiled at Derek who looked appropriately chastised as he told her it 'didn't taste half bad' and Emily laughed, trying not to choke on the bite of bread she had been attempting to swallow. Dave stood by Aaron, both nursing small glasses of wine.

"Aunt Callie, you're not 'posed to throw things at people," Jack told her seriously from where he sat in her lap. The adults laughed, really, truly laughed, for the first time since Haley's death. Even Aaron laughed at the innocent yet determined way Jack scolded the woman. "You should say you're sorry."

"I'm sorry, Derek." Calliope tried not to laugh as she made her apology while Jack watched before taking another spoonful of Mac and cheese. Derek was laughing silently, unable to respond.

"Uncle Derwek, you're supposed to say 'that's okay, we're still friends.'"

"That's okay, Cal. We're still friends," Derek managed to gasp out while his friends laughed at them. Pacified, Jack returned his attention to shoveling the orange noodles into his mouth with one hand and not letting go of Calliope's fingers with the other.

The evening came as a simple end to an exhausting, draining day. The mood shifted between grief and sadness to moments of forced happiness to those of momentarily forgetful levity until they called it a night when Jack fell asleep against Calliope and his father tucked the sleeping boy safely into his booster seat in the car.

"So, how was your day?" Calliope whispered softly as they stood on the porch of their house listening to the wind chimes clang and watching Derek, Emily, Penelope, David and Aaron drive their cars through the trees and wilderness that encroached upon Dahlia Road and the glowing taillights disappeared into the darkness. Spencer stood behind her and held her close, letting her lean against his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She rested her hand over his and he kissed the top of her head, laying his cheek against the soft curls.

"Hell. Yours?"

"Hell."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I just recently lost my own Daddy to a violent death so the feelings and emotions the characters are going through I can legitimately say are real and I have felt them all. I can one hundred percent vouch for the realistic qualities on this chapter and the last and those to come. Death is hard. It's hard to experience and it's hard to write about. But I know about it. My God, do I know about it. I know about having your aunt clean your fathers' blood off the floor, I know about going to the funeral home, I know about asking if the wounds are visible, if the body still looks like the person you loved, I know about picking out what your loved one should be wearing when you say goodbye, I know about listening to your grandfather cry on the phone because his son is gone and a parent should never outlive their child, I know about holding your moms' hand when she tells your dad she loved him and kisses him goodbye. I know about sitting with your younger brother and wondering why a teenage boy should have his father taken away just when he needed him most. I know about sitting alone in a room with the body of the person who used to run into your bedroom when you're crying because you had a bad dream, the person who used to tell you you could do everything you set your mind to, the person you loved more than anything in the world and ask God why He took him but left you alive to live the rest of your life without him. I know about the unanswered questions that you will never receive an answer to. And I know about knowing you will miss someone for the rest of your life.**

**Love, Thalia**


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_You can shed tears that she is gone, or you can smile because she has lived. You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back, or you can open your eyes and see all she's left. Your heart can be empty because you can't see her, or you can be full of the love you shared. You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday. You can remember her only that she is gone, or you can cherish her memory and let it live on. You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back. Or you can do what she'd want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on." – David Harkins_

o o o o

19 November, 2009

Calliope smoothed out the skirt of the dress and looked in the mirror, amazed that the dress fit like it had been made for her. She loved the dress, but wished it wasn't black and wished she wasn't wearing it for the reason she was wearing it. Tilting her head to the left, she tried to envision the dress in a pretty colour, maybe lime green or sunshine yellow. Any colour but black. She had always hated the colour black. Always maintained her stance that black was too depressing and wearing that colour made her sad. Now, she was already sad and wearing this black dress, as beautiful as it was, made her depression deepen.

She took a deep breath before moving away from the mirror to go into the huge walk-in closet she shared with Spencer. Remembering the first time Spencer had seen her closet, she smirked. _'Jeeze, Calliope. I think your closet is bigger than my bedroom.'_ When she stopped in the back corner of the closet, she pushed her multitude of brightly coloured peasant skirts apart and quickly opened the wall safe, pulling out her rather large jewelry box. She pulled out a pair of modestly sized gold hoops, a small set of gold studs, a simple gold bracelet, and the gold quatrefoil necklace Spencer had given her for their anniversary. After placing the box back in the safe, she stopped in front of the mirror that stood in the middle of the closet and began to put on the jewelry.

Calliope slipped her feet into her heels and took a last look in the mirror. Boy, did she look depressing. And slightly funny at the same time. Her outfit was elegant and tasteful (unlike practically everything else in her closet) and her jewelry was simple and beautiful and then came her wonderfully tacky and graffiti-ed purple cast. All of her students, high school aged and younger, had signed her cast until the purple was almost completely unable to be seen any longer and Calliope absolutely loved it.

Spencer came into the closet, confused as to why she was laughing, and leaned against the doorframe, smiling at how beautiful she looked when she laughed. Watching her warmed his heart. She brought so much to his life that he had never imagined he would be lucky enough to have. No… 'Lucky' didn't cover what he was to have her. Blessed was the only appropriate word. He wasn't sure what he believed about God and religion, but he knew he was blessed to be with her. She radiated sunshine and happiness wherever she went. Here she was getting ready for a funeral and she had found something to smile and laugh about. She was truly a special woman and, by some miracle, she was his woman.

"String Bean," Calliope turned and saw him, smiling, before making an appalled face. "Oh, String Bean. You need to change that tie. That tie needs to go. That is hideous. Ugh, where did you get this?"

"I don't know. I got it a long time ago."

"Well, now it's going in the trash." Calliope pulled the tie from around his neck and picked another, a simple black one, from the drawer his ties were stored in. Spencer stood still while she fixed the new clothing article around his neck and thought about how quickly he'd become "domesticated," as Derek put it, and how much he liked it. Knowing that Calliope' would be there smiling at him when he got home at night and that Perses would come running the minute he opened the door brought him happiness and reassurance in that life that was all too unstable.

As she made to move away, Spencer pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. Smiling, he leaned his head down and pressed a kiss to her lips as her arms twisted around his neck.

"You look beautiful," he told her. "Did you find the dress when you went with García?"

"No. I found it at Dahlia. It was Grandpa's mom's dress, so my great-grandmothers. It's from the forties. It's been buried in a trunk of her clothing since she past. There's a picture of her wearing it that I used to look at all the time when I was growing up. It's in the library. I couldn't find anything I liked when I went with shopping with Penelope, so I called Grandpa and asked if we still had this dress. Apparently, we Sellers never throw anything out."

"Don't I know it."

"Hey, you. Be nice or I'll pick on your bad habits," Calliope teased him, smiling, as she traipsed towards where the phone sat ringing on the bedside table just outside the closet. "Hello? Hi Julie. What? Ok. Just a second. Alright. It should open now. See you in a minute."

Spencer walked out of the closet into their bedroom, listening as her heels clicked against the wood of the living room.

"Julie?" Spencer asked.

"Julie Masen? One of my students? You met her. She and her family moved here this summer from California?"

"Oh. Right. Why is she here?"

"I don't know. She sounded upset though." Calliope came back into view holding the phone, worry shadowing her hazel eyes as she put the phone back down on its charger. "I'm not sure what's going on. She's been acting odd the last few lessons."

"At the risk of sounding callous, Calliope, we have to leave in five minutes," Spencer said as he bent down to tie his shoes.

"I know, String Bean. I can't just send her away, though." Calliope tightened her lips as the doorbell rang and Perses barked loudly as he ran towards the source of the noise. Calliope turned on her heel and followed the dogs' path. "Hey, Julie. Come in. It's cold out here."

"Are you guys going somewhere?" The teenager took in Calliope's dress and waved awkwardly at Spencer as she scuffed her worn out Converse on the floor. Spencer offered a smile and returned her awkward wave with one of his own.

"A funeral for one of our friends. Oh, thank you, Spencer," Calliope jumped a bit when Spencer draped the vintage black coat over her shoulders. "What's going on, Julie? Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm okay. Sorry I came over."

"Don't be sorry. You know you're always welcome," Calliope studied the girl. "Why don't you come over tonight when we get home? We can talk then."

"No, It's fine, Miss Calliope. I'm sorry I bothered you. I'll see you in class on Saturday. Bye, Miss Calliope, Dr. Reid." Before Calliope could say anything, Julie had walked out the door, down the steps and grabbed the bike she'd left leaning against the porch railing.

"Okay… that wasn't weird." Calliope watched through the open door as Julie pedaled away, her black ponytail flapping behind her.

"Something is definitely wrong with her," Spencer agreed. "However, we really have to go, Sweetheart. Please, Calliope, we're going to be late."

"I'm coming, I'm coming." Calliope closed the front door and turned away, slipping her arms through the long sleeves of the jacket and picking up her purse before following Spencer towards the garage. A single thought of Haley immediately wiped Julie completely from her mind and she stepped up into the Cayenne while Spencer held the door open for her. She watched Spencer walk around the front of the car and get in the drivers seat. Sighing, Calliope reached over and grabbed his hand. Spencer squeezed her hand as he backed out of the garage and maneuvered the SUV until they were facing away from the house and headed through the leafless trees to the main road.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Eli straightened his white barracks cover and tugged at the end of his midnight blue coat and adjusted the matching blue officers belt to make absolutely sure his dress uniform was impeccable. He nodded at his brother when Isaac handed him his white gloves. Sighing, Eli watched as his younger brother straightened his own officers dress uniform and locked the car, slipping the keys into his pockets.

_"Gregg residence," his fathers' voice was sluggish and sleepy as he answered the phone and the twenty-three year old Eli felt guilty for waking his father up with the apparently standard Marine notification phone call._

"_This is recruit Gregg. I have arrived safely at Parris Island. Please do not send any food or bulky items to me in the mail. I will contact you in three to five days by postcard with my address. Thank you for your support. Goodbye for now." Eli hung up the phone after he finished reading the script printed on the paper handing next to the phone._

"_You! Stand here!" Eli moved where the imposing Marine Drill Sergeant indicated as he barked at him. "What is your name, recruit?"_

"_Recruit Gregg."_

"_Recruit Gregg, what?"_

"_Sir. Recruit Gregg, Sir."_

"Ready, Lieutenant Colonel Gregg?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, Major Gregg."

Their beloved cousin wouldn't be happy with them later, but she would understand.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

No one in the room spoke. The grief and sorrow saturating the room snaked and twisted around each heartbroken individual too tightly to allow anyone to speak. Calliope felt strangely emotionless. It was as if she had spent so much time in the past week being exhaustingly emotional that she simply had nothing left. She could see everyone else's misery, but couldn't quite touch it.

"Sweetheart?" Spencer leaned close and whispered in her ear as sat next to her and immediately laced his fingers through hers. "How are you feeling?"

"Empty," she replied, just as softly. "I feel empty. I can't feel anything. What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you. The first time I had to shoot an unsub, I felt the same way. I told Gideon and he told me that not feeling anything and not knowing what you feel aren't the same thing." Spencer smoothed her crazy hair away from her face to look at her.

"I feel like such a fraud."

"What do you mean, Sweetheart?"

"Everyone here is so sad and I just feel empty."

"Calliope…"

"Spencer, don't. Don't make excuses for me." Calliope stood up and pulled her hand from his. Spencer sighed and watched as she walked through the door into the viewing room.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Leaning back against the large oak door as she closed it behind her, Calliope closed her eyes.

She was alone.

Sort of.

Opening her eyes, Calliope wrapped her arms around herself in a protective fashion and looked at the half open coffin where Haley lay. Suddenly her breathing went into overdrive, her nose started running and her eyes began to water. Apparently, she wasn't as emotionally empty as she thought she was.

Her nose twinged as she sniffed. The air smelt. It smelt like the fetal pigs her biology class dissected in high school. How did she remember that smell? Biology was her freshman year in high school, wasn't it? That was over a decade ago. She'd graduated May of two thousand, so, subtract four years and freshman year would have been fall of ninety-six to spring of ninety-seven. Thirteen years or so ago. Where had the time gone? Thirteen years and she still remembered the smell as she were still the fourteen year old girl that had walked out of biology class gagging and making faces with Jill.

"Formaldehyde, right?" Calliope muttered softly to no one as she slipped her feet out of her heels and walked slowly towards the coffin. "That's what the pigs were in. Formaldehyde. I guess they use it in embalming fluid. I would have entertained you in high school, Haley. You probably would have been laughing if you watched me trying not to toss while Jill and I dissected that poor pig. We named it Ferdinand. I can't remember why. We shouldn't have named it. Never name something you're about to dissect. Jill and I didn't hold up too well with the whole dissection thing. We looked like something out of a comedy sketch for SNL."

Calliope could see Haley's face. She looked so peaceful. "You weren't that peaceful when you died, were you? I bet you were terrified. I miss you, Haley. Aaron, oh Haley, he loves you so much. I know you didn't think he did, but I promise you he loves you. He's never stopped. I doubt he ever will."

She had brown hair now, Haley did. And bangs. What was it her name had been? Alice Moak? Something like that. Apparently, Alice had brown hair and bangs. Calliope tentatively laid her hand over Haley's folded ones. Her skin felt rough, almost, firm and unyielding, so unlike the last time Calliope had seen her.

_ "Sorry I'm late! There was an accident on ninety-five." Calliope was breathless as she ran up the steps to the brownstone café she was meeting Haley and Jack at for lunch._

_ "You're fine," Haley laughed, giving her friend a hug. "Jack's been colouring over there in the corner. Jack, Aunt Callie's here."_

_ "Aunt Callie!" Jack dropped his crayon and ran away from the bright green child-sized table towards the two adults, jumping directly into Calliopes' waiting arms. She stood up with him perched on her hip and hugged him._

_ "Hey there Jack Attack. How are you?"_

_ "Mommy got me new shoes!"_

_ "Wow. They've got laces! Is Mommy teaching you to tie your shoes?"_

_ "I can do it all by myself now."_

_ "You'll have to show me after lunch," Calliope grinned and kissed his cheek. "Have you decided what you want for lunch, Jack?"_

_ "Ham and cheese!"_

_ "Ham and cheese it is!" Haley smiled, ruffling her son's hair, her hazel-green eyes alight with laughter._

Her hands were soft then and her hair had been blonde, the corners of her mouth turned up in a brilliant smile. In her heart, Calliope knew this was merely the shell of her friend, but that knowledge did nothing to sooth the pain of seeing her like this. If everything she'd been raised to believe was indeed true, Haley was up somewhere innately good watching over them.

She had never been overtly religious – if she were she wouldn't be living with Spencer, but she'd never doubted the existence of a God before. Now, though, she wasn't sure what she thought. Haley's death shook her to the core in a way nothing had ever shaken her before. Why? Why, if God was everything she had understood him to be, why would he take someone as good as Haley?

The world needed people like Haley. _She_ needed Haley. Her friend, her confidant, the person who truly understood, was gone.

"Why? Why, why, why? I don't understand, God. I don't understand. I need her. Aaron needs her. Jack needs her. What about Jack? Why'd you take her from him?" Calliope felt selfish about some reasons she wanted Haley back when she thought of the sweet little boy who had so completely captured her heart last March, the sweet little boy who would barely remember the mother who died for him.

Calliope pulled her hand away from Haley's. The dress was beautiful on her and she had been right – the scarf matched perfectly. Startled, Calliope realized Haley's fingernails had been painted a soft pink that matched the scarf and she wondered stupidly if they had painted her toenails as well. The offhanded thought made her laugh and she clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle the noise. What was wrong with her? What did it matter if her toenails were painted? She was dead. No matter how much she looked like she was sleeping, she would never sit up and check.

"I don't get it. You're supposed to be good, God! You're supposed to protect people and… and… I don't know. I just don't know. But this isn't good! How could this possibly good? You're supposed to have a plan, aren't you? Isn't that what they teach? You have a plan to, um, to keep people from harm or something? Prosper us? That's what it says, right? What happened to that? Haley was good. But you took her anyways. Why? Why? You're supposed to be good…"

Shaking her head, she sighed and walked back towards where she had left her shoes. She wanted to get out of here, get away from the formaldehyde smell, get away from Haley's shell. This wasn't Haley. Haley was in a better place watching over them, Haley was in her memories and in her heart.

"I promise, Haley," Calliope told her. "I promise."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"W.S. Gilbert wrote 'It's love that makes the world go 'round.' And, if that's true, than the world spun a little faster with Haley in it."

Spencer stood between Calliope and J.J., his right had gripping his cane and his left loosely holding a white rose. His friend stood in front of him, speaking the hardest words of his life while he eulogized he woman he loved.

Calliopes' nose was running and her eyes watering in a desperate effort not to cry. She knew there was absolutely nothing pretty about the way she looked right now, but, for possibly the first time, she didn't care.

"Haley was my best friend since we were in high school. We certainly had our struggles, but, if there's one thing we agreed on unconditionally, it was our love and commitment to our son Jack."

Derek squeezed Calliope's hand briefly as he watched rain land on the black casket, the casket he had carried in with Dave, Will, Anderson, Kevin and Haley's older brother Sam. Nothing had ever been as heavy.

J.J. eyes were burning and she reached for Wills' hand, needing the reassurance his presence brought her. This shouldn't have happened to her family and it hurt to listen to Aarons' wavering voice.

"Haley's love for Jack was joyous… and fierce. That fierceness is why she isn't here today. A mother's love is an unrivaled force of nature… and we can all learn much from the way Haley lived her life. Haley's death causes each of us to stop and take stock of our lives, to measure who we are and what we've become."

Erin had never met the woman who lay in the casket before her as she stood next to Dave. She may have never met her, but she knew the woman's family and knew how loved she was and felt the blow her death had been.

Will wore the same suit he had worn to his daddy's funeral after Hurricane Katrina. He never thought he would wear this suit again, wasn't even sure why he had kept it, but he had and he wore it now.

"I don't have all those answers for myself, but I know who Haley was. She was the woman who died protecting the child we brought into this world together and I will make sure Jack grows up knowing who his mother was and how she loved and protected him and how much I loved her."

Penelope's fiercely fuchsia lips shook slightly, unabashedly unashamed of the tears that streamed down her cheeks. This was the nightmare she frantically prayed against every time her family chased monsters.

Kevin breathed deeply and thought of the superhero stories his mother use to read to him. He knew what a hero looked like and it wasn't a strong man dressed in a flashy outfit. It was a mother protecting her child.

"If Haley were with us today, she'd ask us not to mourn her death, but to celebrate her life. She would tell us… she would tell us to love our families unconditionally and to hold them close because, in the end, they are all that matter."

Dave listened, standing behind Father Ullman, as Aaron talked of family. Family was a difficult concept for him, because, to him, family was comprised of five men, four women and two little boys he held no relation to.

Emily blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling. She didn't show emotion often and she fought against it now, but the walls she built around her heart had cracked in the three years since she'd found a home.

"I met Haley at the tryouts of our high school's production of The Pirates of Penzance. I found our copy of the play and I was looking through it the other night and I came across a passage that… seemed appropriate for this moment."

Jessica rested her hands on her nephews' tiny shoulders, crying silently over the loss of her sister, of her best friend. She knew she would never understand why this happened, but took solace in knowing Jack was safe.

Jack could feel his aunts' hands holding him in place and he stood still, holding the flower his daddy had given him. Daddy kept saying Mommy's name, but Jack couldn't see her anywhere he looked.

"'Oh dry the glistening tear that dews that marshal cheek. Thy loving children here, in them thy comfort seek. With sympathetic care, their arms around thee creep. For, O, they cannot bear to see their father weep.'"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer ran his thumb absently over Calliopes' knuckle, "Talk to Strauss. Tell her to send another team."

"There's no other team available. Nashville's calling us in. Second body in two weeks. Both killed on consecutive Friday nights. They realize they're up against and they're hoping we might find something they didn't."

Calliope hadn't heard a single thing J.J. said, her eyes glued on Jessica and Jack, completely lost in thought, and she jumped when Spencer pulled on her hand as he stood up. Not relinquishing her hold on him, she stood as well. She looked at Spencer for an explanation and pursed her lips when she realized what had happened.

"Take the car. I'm going to stay here." Calliope pushed up further on her toes and kissed his cheek.

"Sweetheart, I'm have to take you home." Spencer looked down at her, his gaze insistent and determined.

"Spencer, I'll be fine. I want to stay here and be with Aaron and Jack."

"Calliope –"

"You know, my love, contrary to what you seem to believe, I am fully capable of getting myself home without any help from grownups. I used to do it all the time before I met you and, by some miracle, I survived without major injury. Hey. Don't point at my arm. That's not my fault _and_ that happened at home. I'm a big girl, Spencer. I have my address and phone number memorized and everything. I even remember how to touch the screen and scroll down my iPhone to the cab company's number."

Spencer still looked a little unsure about leaving her and his hand reached for her waist of his own accord. Calliope smiled in exasperation before gesturing the team away and stepping into her boyfriends' ready embrace.

"What's going on, Spencer?" Calliope looked up at him, searching his eyes, but all she found was worry and anxiety and fear. "Spencer?"

"You have to be safe," he whispered more to himself than to her.

"Ow! Spencer. Spencer. Too tight, Spencer." Calliope winced, wiggling away from his fingertips as the dug into her waist.

"Sorry," he looked down at her and loosened his grip. "I'm sorry."

"Tell me what's going through that head of yours. Help me understand."

"I can't let anything happen to you," Spencer tightened his lips into a thin line before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Mr. Magician, why are you so obsessed with my safety?" Calliope reached up and made him look at her.

"You don't understand."

"I can't understand if you don't explain. Give me a hand here. You've been watching my every move like a hawk for months now and, to be honest, it's getting a little old."

"I'm sorry," Spencer looked away and winced when she forced his face back towards hers. "Calliope, I… My entire world is contained in a little ninety-two pound package that has a tendency to do things to freak me out and make me worry. Everything that matters to me."

"Oh, String Bean. I love you," Calliope kissed him and ignored the protective way his arms tightened around her waist. "Spencer, you have to trust me to be able to take care of myself or eventually you're going to resort to wrapping me in bubble wrap and then I'll have to kill you and then Derek will arrest me and it'll all go down hill from there. I took care of myself for a long time before I met you. Nothing bad happened to me. Just because I met you and I freak you out doesn't mean that I suddenly have no idea how to function. Foyet's gone and I'll be fine."

"Sweetheart –"

"If you're going to argue with me, let me save you time. I'm right, you're wrong. You have to go. The team's waiting for you."

"I wasn't going to argue," Spencer laughed.

"Oh. Well. In that case, what were you going to say?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Calliope?"

"Eli? What are you doing here?" Calliope walked into her house and saw Eli and Isaac in her living room still wearing the dress uniforms they had worn to the funeral hours ago. "How long have you been here?"

"A few hours," Isaac shrugged. "Where were you?"

"I was at the Hotchner's house helping Aaron and Jessica pack up the last of the stuff," Calliope shrugged off her great-grandmothers' black coat and hung it in the hall closet before leaning down to scratch the wiggling dog at her ankles. "Why are you here? Not that you're not welcome."

"We have something to tell you." Eli told her.

"That's not ominous at all." Calliope put her hands on her hips and waited.

"We're reenlisting."

"Together?"

"Of course." Isaac nodded. "We're doing a stint as DIs at Parris Island before shipping back to Iraq."

"Have you told everyone else?" Calliope moved towards the coffee maker on the kitchen counter as she asked, kicking off her heels and shrinking three inches.

"Yes. You're the last we need to tell."

"I knew you'd go back. Everyone did. It's who you are. Coffee?"

"You're not mad?"

"Eli, why would I be mad at you for being you? It's in your blood; it's who you are. Everyone I love is a hero. Jill's in Uganda, Grandpa was in Korea and Vietnam, Uncle Mark and Uncle Joseph were in Afghanistan, the team fights monsters at home, and now you're going back to Iraq. You have to promise to write and to take care of each other."

"We always do."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

20 November, 2009

Calliope stepped out of the elevator juggling several bags on her arms and a rather large painting in her hands. The painting was obscuring her view and she kept worrying the handles of the bags hanging off her arms would snap and everything would roll everywhere. Maybe she should have made two trips. Rounding a corner, she ran into something and the painting slipped from her hands.

"No! No, no, no!" Calliope dropped her bags and fell to her knees, turning the painting over and inspecting it, looking for scratches or tears.

"Is it okay?" A female voice asked, but Calliope didn't look up from the faces of Aaron, Haley and Jack painted on the canvas. She couldn't see any visible scratches and the edges appeared unscathed as she stood up, gingerly holding the canvas.

"I think it's okay," Calliope said as she looked up at what she'd collided with. "Oh! Chief Shi-Shiiierman… right? No, that's not right. Chief Strauss. I'm sorry. I couldn't see."

That was close.

"It's alright, Ms. Sellers." The blonde eyed her, taking in her haphazard appearance.

"How do you know my name?"

"You're dating Agent Reid and I saw you at the funeral."

"Right, of course. I'm sor–"

"Aunt Callie!" Jack ran out of the open apartment door with Aaron close behind him.

"Hey Jack Attack. Hi Aaron."

"Hi, Callie. Here," Aaron took the painting from her and a few of the bags so Calliope could pick an impatient Jack up.

"I'm really sorry," she reiterated as she followed Aaron back into apartment. "Nice to meet you."

"Thank you, Chief Strauss. I'll let you know. Say goodbye, Jack."

"Bye," Jack waved over Calliope's shoulder.

"Goodbye, Jack." Erin waved before walking towards the elevator thinking of how different the greeting the preschooler gave this strange redhead was from the one he had given her. There was something about the woman, strange, but special, that she had noticed both just now and yesterday and Erin couldn't place what it was.

"Oh my God," Calliope muttered into her hands after she had put Jack down and he went running to get his new toys to show her. "Oh my God, Aaron. I almost called her Chief Shit for Brains."

Aaron laughed. He couldn't help himself. The image the sentence conjured was simply too funny. "Only you, Callie."

"That's what I call her at home! I'd never call her that to her face. Not on purpose anyways! Oh my God, I can't believe I did that. Why was she here anyways?"

"She offered me retirement."

"What? What'd you say?" Calliope looked up, startled, into the weary eyes of her friend.

"That I had to think about it."

"That's a lot to think about," she agreed. "I can take Jack out for a bit if you need some time alone to think."

"No, I'll think while I unpack. Thanks for coming to help."

"Of course, Aaron. Where should I start?"

"Helping Jack would be great."

"Consider it done. You picked a good painting, by the way," Calliope smiled when she saw him looking at it. "One of my favorites."

"How much do I owe you?"

"Owe me? Aaron, it's a gift. I don't want your money."

"Callie, you fixed my house and won't let me pay for it, you put together a bank account for Jack's education… Don't. I know you did that. No one else I know has two hundred thousand dollars to give away. Plus, García tracked the paperwork back far enough to find your name. Now this?"

"Aaron, I don't want payment. I don't want your money. I fixed your house and I put together that account so you don't have to worry. You have enough to worry about without adding repairing all the damage to the house or paying for Jacks' education on top of everything else. That money is so he can stay in the private preschool and continue in that system of schools. The money technically isn't even for you. It's for Jack. If it makes you feel better, I've done the same thing for Henry."

"Callie, I… Thank you."

"You're welcome. If you really want to pay me back, you'll smile for me, because you have a very handsome smile and you don't show it enough, and invite me to dinner."

"Done," Aaron smiled.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Taking a sip of his coffee, Spencer read the text message that had popped up across the screen of his cell phone.

_Shit for Brains offered Aaron retirement. He doesn't know what he's going to do yet. I'm at his apartment helping unpack. I love you, I miss you, be safe. C._

When would the earth stop shaking? It felt as though they had been trapped in a continuous earthquake for the past week and it simply kept gaining strength, moving seamlessly from a category eight to nine to ten and it refused to stop. A team without Hotch. Spencer couldn't quite wrap his mind around the idea.

Gideon's abrupt departure three years ago had rocked their little family, but they had grown stronger from it. Loosing Hotch… could they recover from loosing Hotch? Spencer looked down at the phone. _I love you, I miss you, be safe. C._

Calliope… no matter what reassurances she gave him, he worried about her. He worried about her because he loved her and losing her the way Hotch had lost Haley would devastate him. He wouldn't come back. If he were in Hotch's shoes, he would accept retirement and not look back. He would leave the BAU and devote himself to being there for the little girl with her mothers' hair that invaded his dreams more and more frequently.

His precious little Bailey. She seemed real and, to him, she was. He couldn't touch her or talk to her and only saw her when he closed his eyes, but she was just as real to him as Jack or Henry. Spencer smiled. Calliope would be a natural mother. He knew she would; watching her with Jack only proved that. What he worried about was whether or not he would be a good father.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Ow!" Calliope slipped off the stepstool she stood on as she put groceries away in the pantry that had surprised her with its size. Landing harmlessly on her bottom, Calliope snorted in laughter. Spencer didn't need to know that happened. Standing up and rubbing her bottom, she looked into the last box of non-perishables to be stocked on the shelves. A few more packs of Kraft Mac and Cheese and she'd be done.

She could hear Aaron and Jessica talking in the kitchen, but couldn't quite make out what they were saying as she stepped back up onto the stepstool and quickly put away the boxes of noodles and powdered cheese. They were still talking when she finished, so she busied herself folding the stepstool and putting it away and then breaking down the cardboard boxes the food had been delivered in. Calliope didn't want to walk out in the middle of a private conversation, if the conversation was private, that is.

There was a lull in the voices and she stepped out into the hallway by the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

"Well! The pantry is officially child-friendly!"

"Thank, Calliope." Jessica smiled.

"No problem," Calliope returned the smiled before looking at Aaron. "Why so serious, Aaron? You know, if you think any harder you're head will pop off. At least that's the stance Breelyn maintains."

"I just offered to take Jack when the team had to go away so Aaron doesn't have to retire. If he doesn't want to retire."

"Ohhh, that's a great idea, Jessica. Why didn't I think of that? Count me in. My job's very flexible. I mean, I don't have a nine to five or anything. All I have are the painting classes. I could totally help out with Jack when you need to leave," Calliope agreed as she reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. Aaron didn't say anything, but simple watched the two women in front of him as Jessica finished the pancakes and Calliope reached back into the fridge and grabbed the tub of butter, taking it over to the table and placing it next to the syrup.

"Family takes care of family, right?" Calliope was smiling at him. "That's the BAU's mantra, isn't it? Family takes care of family."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

21 November, 2009

Spencer smiled sadly when he breached the grassy hill and saw Calliope standing alone over the fresh grave. He stood back for a while, giving her space to say whatever it was she needed to stay, and simply watched and waited. He knew that she knew he was here – they were never good at hiding their presence from each other.

"I don't think I've ever felt this way before, String Bean," Calliope said quietly a quarter of an hour later. Spencer took that as he cue and walked over to her, leaning heavily on his cane, and slipped his arm around her shoulder, kissing her head.

"How do you mean?"

"Hatred. I don't think I've every really felt _hatred_ before," she whispered, leaning back against him and letting him support her weight. "Yeah, I've done the whole 'Ugh, I hate that girl. She's just such a bitch!' thing in high school and I'm pretty sure I yelled at Grandpa and Mammy that I hated them a few times when I was growing up. But this… this is like loathing or detestation or… or… I don't even know how to express it any other way. I _hate_ him."

"He killed a member of our family for fun. We all hate him, Sweetheart."

"He took Hayley. For no reason. The woman Hotch loves, Jack's mom. For no reason. She was a really good woman, Spencer. She didn't deserve to die. She –" Calliope couldn't say anymore and started crying, turning into him and burying her face in his chest. Spencer held her, just stood there and held her. She didn't want words right now and he knew that. She just wanted to be held. "How'd you know where I was?"

"Because I know you. There's only so many places you'd be right now."

"I… I don't know why I'm here." Calliope admitted into his shoulder.

"Closure." Spencer said simply as he looked at the small temporary marker that read 'George Foyet' at the head of the grave.

"I guess so. I guess that's why I buried him. Closure. Maybe. I don't know. He doesn't deserve to be buried. He doesn't deserve to be treated like a human. He's a monster."

"I know. What did you have put on the headstone?"

"George Foyet. In hopes that now his victims can finally rest and the families they left behind may find peace."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Sorry this is a bit late. I have a huge poetry analysis essay due soon and I had to focus on that. **

**Pictures of the outfit Calliope wore to the funeral can be seen in Photobucket under "Calliope's Outfits".  
**

**Anyways, I hope you like Chapter 26. Also - the phone call Eli Gregg makes in the flashback is the actual phone call that Marine recruits make to their families at eleven o'clock at night EST the night they arrive at Parris Island for boot-camp. And, "DIs" stand for "Drill Instructors," if you didn't know.**

**A bunch of people have said that they wish they could be friend with Calliope and now you can! Calliope Sellers now has a twitter account and her username is **twosamuse**. Add her and she'll add you. =) It's rather entertaining and her friends do become part of her world in this story.**

**Thanks for your patience with the delay in this chapter. I hope you liked it and tell me what you think, good or bad. :)**

**Love, Thalia**


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Love involves a peculiar unfathomable combination of understanding and misunderstanding." – Diane Arbus_

o o o o

15 December, 2009

Calliope sat with her iPod earbuds in her ears while she folded laundry and danced in her seat, singing along with Ray Charles and the Raelettes.

"Woah woman, oh woman, don't treat me so mean, you're the meanest old woman that I've ever seen. I guess if you say so, I have to pack my things and go. That's right! Hit the road, Jack, and don'tchya come back, no more, no more, no more, no more. What you say?! Hit the road Jack and don'tchya come back no more.

"Well baby, listen baby, don't ya treat me this-a-way, cause I'll be back on my feet some day. Don't care if you do 'cause it's understood, you ain't got no money, you just ain't no good. Well, I guess if you say so, I'd have to pack my things and go. That's right! Hit the road Jack and don–"

The soft touch of Spencer lips against her cheek made her jump and toss the pair of Jack's jeans she had been folding into the air.

"You are so bad!" She yelled at him, sharply articulating each word and smacked him repeatedly with a pair of folded purple skinny jeans as she yanked the earbuds out. Spencer laughed merrily. "You're such a jerk, Magician! I can't believe you did that. Scratch that! I can. You little brat. Ugh, I hate you!"

"So, are you trying to tell me to hit the road?" He teased, picking up the jeans she'd thrown.

"Right now or in general?" She snarled and rolled her eyes, snatching the small jeans from his grip and refolded them. "How'd you go from so nice to me to so mean?"

"Love?"

Calliope turned to stare at him and then threw the newly re-folded jeans at him and stood up. "You, darling dearest, are a complete idiot. I'm going to put away the laundry. Now, go work on the profile I know you brought home so we can watch a movie tonight without you thinking about what's in the file every screen change."

"Come here, goof." He said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders before she could pick up the laundry basket. Snagging a kiss, he smiled when she hugged him and returned the sentiment. "You look unbelievably beautiful when you tell me that I'm an idiot."

"You are so weird, String Bean," Calliope laughed.

"I'll be in my office, alright?"

Nodding, she picked up the laundry basket and slapping him on the bottom as he turned away from her. When he turned back to her with a smirk and raised eyebrow, she put on an innocent face, smiled blankly and waved as she carried the basket into the bedroom she had created for Jack.

Aaron had returned to the team and she wasn't the least bit surprised. Jack needed him, yes, but Jack had Jessica and he had her. Aaron needed the team. So, the day Aaron had called her, told her his decision and thanked her for offering to take care of Jack, Calliope had gone with Ashanti and Breelyn on an insane shopping spree. Together, the cousins spent the day picking out furniture for a little boys room, buying a closetful of clothing and a roomful of toys for Jack, and then stuffing their faces with Chinese food while they berated and laughed at Eli and Isaac putting together the furniture before falling into hysterics as a very confused Spencer came home that night into a loud, action-filled house and followed the joyful noise into what had, that morning, been a guest room.

Now, Calliope stood in a bright and colourful room done in a Captain America theme complete with a mural she'd spent a week painting on the walls. She opened a drawer on the dresser painted to look like a skyscraper and put in the newly laundered clothing the Jack had worn the past week while the team worked a child-abduction case in Ambrose, Georgia. She paused a moment in the doorway and looked at the bed where, just last night, she had tucked Jack in at bedtime and read a picture book version of Disney's _Hercules_.

Turning and closing the door behind her, she wandered into the bedroom she shared with Spencer. She could barely remember her life a year ago. Life was so different from before she met Spencer. Despite the rift between Calliope and Brenda, her life felt full in a way she hadn't realized it lacked, hadn't realized she even wanted.

Calliope never really dated before Spencer, for good reason. Every boy who had ever asked her out in high school or in college had only asked her because of who she was, because of the big white house she grew up in and the money in her bank account. They weren't interested in her, just what her name had to offer. Any dates she'd gone on were boring and predictable: they started with a bouquet of a dozen red roses, an agonizing ride to a stuffy five-star restaurant, a tiny, delicious meal that she barely got enough bites from to taste, another agonizing ride back home while her stomach growled, and then an awkward moment outside the car as she evaded the attempted kiss before running up to Dahlia's front door or her dorm.

Spencer though… Spencer had been different. She remembered the first time she saw him. She had been behind the desk one evening with Brianne, The Hobbit Hole's co-manager and assistant librarian, gathering the month's records and invoices to settle up Augusts' books when, by mere chance and a bit of dumb luck, her eyes skimmed over the screen of the iMac where feeds from the security cameras played in the bottom left corner of the screen and landed on a tall, skinny man standing before one of the beautiful, hand carved mahogany bookcases that lined the walls of Lothlórien, or the classic literature room.

"_Woah…" Calliope put the binders back down onto the desk and looked closer at the computer screen, enlarging the window so it filled the screen and then double clicked to make the image of the handsome mystery man sitting down with _The Odyssey_ the only video feed on the screen._

"_Beautiful," She breathed, looking at the mans' face as he opened the book to the first page and tucked his hair behind his ear, revealing the delicate bone structure Calliope couldn't tear her eyes away from. "Hello, Cutie… Who are you? Brianne. Brianne. Bri… Bri… Bri! Earth to Bri… Hi, Brianne. Welcome back. Who is this? Is he new to Fredericksburg? I haven't seen him before."_

"_Not sure. Never seen him. Have you seen the lists of this years required reading for the high schools and junior highs? I can't find it anywhere and I need to submit the order tomorrow if we're going to get the books in before school starts."_

"_In the file cabinet over there," Calliope gestured her hand behind her at the hand carved mahogany file cabinet against the wall behind the front desk. "Left side, second drawer, green and yellow stripped file, purple sheets."_

"_We need a new filing system," Brianne rolled her eyes and pulled out the paper she had been searching for._

"_Why? Our system works just fine. The right side is all financial stuff you don't need to worry about. The left side top drawer holds all the fliers about Hobbit Hole activates and info on painting classes, second drawer is all to-be-ordered, to-be-logged, already-ordered, etc, and the third drawer is invoices and inventory things. It makes complete sense. You should have it down by now, Bri. Besides, you could have printed out another set of lists. We have it saved on the desktop."_

"_Yeah, yeah… You are, by far, the strangest boss I've ever had, Calliope."_

"_Awww, thank you! _

"_You should go talk to him," Brianne said pointing at the screen._

"_What? No."_

"_He's cute in a nerdy kind of way. Besides, I've never seen you with a guy. I've worked here since oh-six when we opened and you've never had a boyfriend. I know you're a workaholic and all, but come on. You have more of a relationship with the China Inn's speed dial then with any person."_

"_Ouch. Harsh much?"_

"_It wouldn't hurt if it weren't true."_

"_Are we ever going to have a normal employer-employee relationship?"_

"_I doubt it."_

"_Me too."_

"_Go on. Go talk to him."_

"_I dunno…"_

"_What do you have to loose? You're already on the track to becoming an old maid. Best-case scenario, he's "the one," you'll have a whirlwind romance and get married during a drunken night in Vegas and live happily-ever-after. Worst-case scenario, he's not interested and you continue on your path to old-maid-hood."_

"_A drunken night in Vegas? What am I doing in Vegas?"_

"_You won an all-expense-paid vacation by being caller number nine and naming all of Britney Spear's number one hits."_

"_I listen to Britney Spears?"_

"_It's his favorite singer. You learned all her songs so he would love you."_

"_Of course. Old-maid-hood, huh?"_

"_Without preventative measures, it's a terminal disease, Calliope. There is no cure once you have it. The only preventative measure is to walk over there and talk to him. I don't want to have to write your obituary for the Free Lance-Star and say 'Sadly, last night Calliope Sellers passed away peacefully in her home from old-maid-hood. She was 28."_

"_I only have three years left?"_

"_Better hurry. I'm starting to notice the symptoms."_

"_This relationship is so screwy."_

"_Go talk to him? What do you have to loose?_

"_Okay, okay! Anything to make you shut up already. Watch the books. Don't let anybody steal them."_

"_Who would want to steal a months worth of paperwork?"_

"_A crazy person with a shredder fetish?"_

"_Strangest boss ever."_

"_By the way, Bri, I found this tucked in with my invoices yesterday."_

"_My PoliSci homework! I've been looking for that!"_

"_You know, a normal boss would yell at you for doing homework on the clock, but I'm a strange boss so I'm just gonna say 'Make sure it's an A and don't neglect the customers.'"_

"_I love my strange boss."_

"_I thought so. I'll be back." Calliope glanced at herself in the ornate mirror hanging on the wall and giggled. Boy was she going to make an impression…_

_Getting dressed this morning, she'd put on her most colourful pieces of clothing and she loved the effect the colours made on her mood. Her bony legs were encased in a pair of bright pink tights over which flounced a very poofy, knee-length electric blue ballerina skirt. The worn-out Chuck Taylors were so faded they looked grey rather than black and the t-shirt she wore was white, however it was covered with the small handprints from all her elementary school aged students in vibrant, neon fabric paint. Red curls were collected on either side of her had in haphazard buns, electric blue and purple tendrils breaking up the monotony of her natural red. A newly purchased bottle of "Kiwi Green" waited in her purse to be dyed into her hair later tonight._

_She'd been channeling Cyndi Lauper this morning. The man, who seemed to be channeling her beloved grandfather, would probably look at her as if she were insane, but that was a look she had grown accustomed to._

_Walking into Lothlórien, she spotted him sitting in her favorite chair. From spending countless hours in that chair, she knew she stood just outside of his line of sight. How could he read that fast? He flipped the page every two or three seconds. Perhaps he simply skimmed each page? No, he seemed too engaged to be skimming the words. His hair held her attention. She wanted to go run her fingers through it and see if it felt as soft and silky as it look. It fell straight until about his ears where it started to curl into loose twists. The curls stopped along his stubble-covered jaw line where he tucked the hair behind his ears. He wore an awkward pair of black, half-rimmed glasses and kept shifting them as if he hadn't worn them in a while and couldn't quite get used to their presence. Calliope wasn't sure why, but she had this irresistible desire to go up to him and kiss his cheek. What colour were his eyes? She couldn't see from where she stood and her glance kept slipping to his hands. She wanted to sketch them as they flew across the pages._

_She watched for a while before silently walking towards and leaning over the back of the chair to whisper in his ear. He smelled good. He smelled like coffee. Calliope stopped reciting The Odyssey and walked around the chair to look into what she would come to realize were the most beautifully expressive brown eyes she'd ever seen._

She giggled thinking of their awkward first date where he told her phenylethylamine was the reason most women reported preferring chocolate to sex. The date had been perfect, awkward and funny, but completely perfect. There had been no ridiculous attempts to impress her, everything had just been comfortable and fun. Calliope had put away everything that belonged in the closet, smiling as she remembered, and was putting her underwear in the dresser when Spencer's cell phone vibrated on the bedside table. Walking over, she looked at the number and frowned when she didn't recognize it. Shrugging, she picked it up and answered as she made her way back to the dresser.

"¿Hola?"

_ "Um, hi? I must have dialed… is this, uh, Dr. Spencer Reid's phone?"_

"Yes, it is. He's working right now. Who is this?" Calliope held the cell phone in place with her shoulder while she grabbed Spencer's' mishmash of socks from the laundry basket she had resting on her hip and tossed them into the drawer.

_ "Lila Archer. He's my, um, friend. I'm his Lila. Who are you?"_

"This is Calliope Sellers. What do you want, _his_ Lila?" She asked, putting the laundry basket down, her teeth clenching in anger. Lila. Who was Lila? How had she missed this? She had just been thinking about how different he was from any other man she'd met, how much he was like her grandfather she loved so much, and now this woman, this _Lila_, was calling him… Did he think she was stupid? That he could hide this other woman from her? That she was too busy with Jack and Dahlia and The Hobbit Hole and Scroll&Stylus to realize? _Had_ she been too busy? Why else hadn't she noticed? How long had… Calliope tried to think, but everything within her was filling with hazy fury.

_ "I want to talk to Spencer. Give him the phone."_

"Spencer can't talk right now. He's about to die."

_ "What?"_

Calliope closed the phone on the woman's alarmed question and gripping the already vibrating phone tightly in her hand as she stormed out of the room, striding towards Spencer's' office. The door bounced off the wall from the force with which she threw it open and Spencer jumped in his chair.

"Jeeze, Calliope. You almost gave me a heart attack. Just a second, Sweetheart. Let me put away this file. I don't want you to see what's in it." Spencer closed the file and slipped it into a drawer before spinning the office chair around and stood up to greet her with a kiss. As soon as he saw her face, he took a step back and almost fell back into the chair, raising his hands in surrender. "Ok. What did I do?"

"Spencer, who is Lila Archer?"

"She's, uh, she's just a woman I know."

"Well, my astute observational skills have already deduced that she's a woman and that you know her. Expound upon that explanation, please, Spencer dearest." Finally fed up with the vibrating phone, she flipped it open and snarled, "Spencer's busy, bitch. He'll call you later." Closing the phone again and throwing it on the desk, she stared expectantly at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Sweetheart… C-can you – can you, um, look at little less like you're going to kill me?"

"Not yet."

"Ok. What can I do to make it so you'll eventually look less like your going to kill me?"

"Explain."

"Lila's an old friend of mine. I met her on a case four years ago in L.A. She was being stalked and the stalker was killing people to further Lila's career. The BAU took the case."

"You don't keep in contact with other unsubs' targets."

"I… I, um… Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I should have told you." Spencer took a step towards her, but stepped back again when she bristled and narrowed her eyes. "Calliope, I didn't tell you because, when I met you, it had been four months since I'd talked to her. I haven't spoken to her since then. This is the first time I've heard from her in twenty months."

Calliope studied him for a minute before speaking. "She said she was your 'um, friend.' What does that mean, Spencer?"

"We were sort of involved for about a second four years ago." Spencer thinned his lips and watched her carefully, apprehensively. "Sweetheart, it lasted all of two seconds. Literally. I'm sorry, Calliope. I wasn't trying to hide anything from you. Honest."

"She's not your…"

Finally, it dawned on him what was going through her mind and he found himself completely mystified by his own cluelessness. Striding across the office, he took her face in his hands and caught her lips with his before she could react. "No, Sweetheart, no. Never. Absolutely not. You know I would never do that. How could you think I'd do something like that?"

"She said she was 'your Lila,'" she sniffed; furious anger beginning to segway into hurt and tears.

Furrowing his brow in utter confusion, he looked down at her. "My Lila?" She nodded, pulled out of his arms and ran out of the room. Following as closely behind as his leg would let him, he didn't manage to catch her before she slammed and locked their bedroom door as soon as she went through.

"Sweetheart, come out."

"No!"

"Please, Calliope."

"Go away, Spencer!"

"I want to talk to you."

"Go talk to _your Lila_! I'm sure she'd be over the moon to listen. Get the hell away from me, Spencer! I don't want to talk to you." He jerked back when what sounded like one of his shoes hitting the door, followed in quick succession by several more of his shoes. "What was it? Was I paying too much attention to Jack and Aaron? Is that it? Am I too stressful? I can't believe – You are such a – I hate you!"

"I don't want to talk to Lila. She was never 'my' anything, Calliope, and she never will be. The only person that's ever been mine is you and I prefer to keep it that way. I don't want anyone else to be mine. I don't want Lila: I want Calliope. I want the beautiful, insane, fiery-tempered redheaded muse who throws shoes at the door when she's angry with me and consequently terrifies her dog who is now cowering underneath the hallway table looking like he's about to wet himself."

"Yeah, well this insane redhead doesn't want to hear your voice anymore, Spencer Reid. This insane redhead wants you to leave her the hell alone! Go away!"

"I can't go away, Calliope."

"Why not?!"

"Because you're holding my heart."

There was a sniffling silence before a new shoe, smaller this time, hit the door with less force than the previous shoes. He heard her shuffling on the other side until she was just a few feet from the door.

"Spencer?"

"Yes?"

"I want you to go away."

"For now, Calliope. I'll be back." Stepping back, he took a longer look at the door between them before walking over to where the pathetic Perses crouched, trembling, and scooping up the little puppy out from under the table. "Come here, you. You're ok. I know, Perses. You've never seen Mommy throw shoes, have you? Better get used to it quickly, little one: she does this on a semi-regular basis. For now, let's get you somewhere safe where you can cower in peace. Sound good?"

Perses almost looked grateful as Spencer walked back to his office. Closing the door behind the two of them, Spencer set the puppy down onto the bundled up green afghan Calliope had crocheted as a dog bed and watched while Perses circled a few times before nestling down and began chewing on a bright orange Halloween sock he tugged out from the folds of the blanket.

"So that's where that disappeared to, you little sneak thief. Why do you only chew on my cloths, huh? Mommy has more clothing than I do. Go after some of her stuff next time, Perses." Ignoring him, the dog continued to gnaw at the sock and Spencer, even though he knew he would regret it later, didn't have the heart to take it away from him.

He turned away from the dog and grabbed his cell phone. According to his missed calls, Lila had called nineteen times since Calliope had yelled at her. Hitting the send button, he held the phone to his ear and waited.

"_Spencer! Are you ok?"_

"No, not really, Lila. You've wedged me into a rock and a hard place pretty tightly."

"_That woman was insane. She said she was going to kill you. She –"_

"She's not insane, Lila. Well, no, she's completely insane, but that's not the point. The point is she's my girlfriend and, as of ten minutes ago, our dog is in a better position in our house than I am."

"_You have a girlfriend."_

"Yes. For almost a year and a half now. You'd know that if you'd responded to any of my e-mails. I haven't talked to you since March oh-eight."

"_I'm sorry, Spencer. I guess I just missed you."_

"You have a terrible way of showing it, Lila. You told her that you were 'my Lila.' You've never been 'my' anything and you know that. Yet you said it anyways. Why?"

"_I… I'm sorry, Spencer. You're right. I shouldn't have."_

"You're damn right you shouldn't have. Calliope accused me of cheating on her with a woman who lives two thousand six hundred and ninety-three miles away from me and I haven't heard from in over a year. Lila, I love Calliope, I've loved her since I met her, and right now she's locked in our bedroom refusing to talk to me because you purposefully goaded her into thinking I'm cheating on her."

"_Spencer –"_

"You just got broken up with, didn't you, Lila? I suspect you're feeling a bit insecure about yourself. So you decided to call me because you figured I'd always be here if you need a guy to fall back on. So, when Calliope answered my cell phone, it was another blow to your already sagging ego and you decided, maybe subconsciously, to transfer your insecurity to Calliope, a woman you don't even know, by making it seem like you and I are now more than we ever were."

"_I –"_

"Do you remember SSA Hotchner, Lila? His wife was murdered a month ago. We're all still reeling from Haley's death and now, on top of her grief for Haley, helping take care of Jack, the Hotchner's son, while the BAU's on cases, me being gone, she now thinks I've betrayed her by cheating on her. Her grandmother hates me. Do you know what you're little stunt might do to my relationship with Calliope? She's thinking that I turned to someone besides her because of all the stress in our life right now. She's probably wondering if her grandmother's right, if she really shouldn't be with me. And I haven't done anything wrong, Lila. You did."

"_Spencer, I'm s –"_

"No, Lila. There's nothing you can say to defend this. I have to go. I have to find a way into my own bedroom and pry her out of the closet. Goodbye, Lila."

"_I'm sorr –"_

Spencer hung up the phone and tossed it back onto the desk, scrubbing his face with his hands. How could Calliope think he'd do something like that? Had he slipped up? Had he let her forget how important she was to him? He's taken the words Derek had said to him a year ago to heart. "Make sure she knows she's important to you, make sure she knows you miss her when your not there." He always sent her flowers when the team was on a case. He had a file on his smartphone listing all the flowers he'd given her alphabetically so he made sure to send her something he'd never sent her before. They flowers weren't extravagant, but he put thought into each one of the notes. How could she think he'd hurt her? Spencer sighed before pushing out of the chair, squatting next to where the dog was still contentedly chewing on his sock. He kissed the sweet, furry head before standing up and exiting the office into the hallway. Knocking on the bedroom door, he listened hard for any noises from the other side of the door.

"Calliope? Sweetheart, may I come in?"

"No." Her voice was soft and sad. "Go away, Spencer."

"Not this time, Calliope. Where are you?"

"In bed. Go away."

Spencer moved back farther from the door, turning sideways, and kicked with practiced ease just below doorknob. The oak door burst open and Calliope shrieked from where she was curled up on the bed. Wincing as pain shot through his newly released leg, Spencer rubbed his knee before walking into the bedroom.

"I'll fix the door later and, if I can't, I'll find someone who can."

"You're knee! Spencer, you shouldn't have –"

"My knee's fine," he lied as he sat on the edge of the bed, making sure to keep his distance. "Can we talk now?"

"Well, you kicked down the door, Spencer. It's not like I can avoid you anymore unless I want to race you to the guest room."

Perses waddled into the room trailing the Halloween sock from his mouth and Spencer leaned over the edge of the bed and picked the puppy up, letting him down on the quilt, where he plopped on his stomach like a pancake and continued to chomp on the sock. Calliope smiled and leaned over to scratch the once again content dog behind his floppy ear.

"Calliope, hey, stop hiding your face from me. I haven't done anything wrong, Calliope, and you know that. Well, except maybe kicking the door in. And, yes, I should have told you about Lila. I know that and I'm sorry. But you know I'd never hurt you by doing something like that.

"I would never, ever choose someone with whom I had a fleeting, lukewarm infatuation with over you, the wonderful woman I've very gladly chosen to share my life with for over a year. Why on earth would I ever want someone else when I have you? Even if I were stupid enough to think I could possibly find a women better than you, where would I get the time or energy to work at the BAU, be here with you and Perses as much as I am and also be going off with some other woman?"

"We do run you pretty ragged, don't we?" she mumbled, still not looking directly at him.

"A little bit, Sweetheart, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

She looked up at him and he smiled softly when he saw her mascara and eye linear running down her cheeks. He got off the bed and went into their bathroom, retrieving her makeup remover and cotton swabs. Sitting back on the bed, he poured a little of the liquid onto a swab and began wiping her face clean.

"Calliope, you know I'm proud of you for stepping up to help with Jack. Why would I hold that against you? I see how you are with Jack, see how Jack is with you. He needs you, and you need him."

"I haven't been neglecting you?"

"Only when you're painting, but there's nothing new about that," Spencer teased. "Everyone deals with grief differently, Calliope. Your way of dealing with it is to throw yourself into as much as possible, to keep yourself busy. I understand that."

"She doesn't mean anything, right?" Her voice shook.

"Sweetheart, I promise you, she doesn't mean anything. She _never_ meant anything. Today was the first time I've spoken to her in over a year and a half."

"You spoke to her?"

"Yes, I called her before I kicked in the door. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I was angry with her for pulling what she did. So I profiled her with a bit more cruelty than necessary and I'll have to apologize for that one later depending on where my anger level is."

"So… what'd your profile say?" Calliope asked curiously, closing her eyes as Spencer kept on gently removing the ruined makeup from her eyes.

"She's feeling insecure about herself so she called me to boost her self-confidence thinking I was a good back up plan to whatever fell through for her. But you answered the phone instead and her self-confidence plummeted, so she tried to make herself feel better by making something up just to hurt you."

"You're really good at your job, String Bean," she whispered.

"That's why they pay me the big bucks," he joked. "Just a second, last bit. Keep your eyes closed for a little longer." Picking up a dry swab, he wiped off the last smudge from the corner of her eye and, instead of telling her it was safe to open her eyes, he slipped his hand behind her neck and brushed the softest kiss against her lips. "I love you, Sweetheart. I don't want anyone but you, Calliope Sellers."

"Really?" She asked, resting her cheek against his.

"Really," he reassured her, pressing a kiss to her jaw without moving his head. "I love you, Sweetheart."

"Why on earth do you love an insane, fiery-tempered redheaded muse who gets mad, yells at you, and then starts crying, runs away and throws shoes at the door when she's angry with you?" She hiccupped a bit while she spoke and Spencer felt her eyes water.

"You forgot beautiful," he reminded her, pulling back and kissing her closed eyes. "Why do I love you? I love you because you're a beautiful, insane, fiery-tempered redheaded muse who gets mad, yells at me, starts crying, runs away and throws shoes at the door when you're mad at me. Nothing – nobody – could take your place."

"You're love map is all screwed up," she sniffed, giving him a weak attempt at humor.

"Maybe so, but I've never been happier than I am with you."

"You're crazy and I love you," she hiccupped as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"I love you," he returned, supporting the small of her back as he laid her down on the bed, stretching over her and kissing her again and again. Moaning into his mouth, Calliope hooked her leg around his and buried her fingers in his hair. She arched underneath him as his fingers reached to the back of her neck, untangled the knot of her halter-top. He pressed his hand against her exposed back and began kissing his way down her neck.

"Spencer."

"Hmmm?"

"Spencer."

"What?"

"Dog, Spencer."

"Dog? Oh! Dog." Spencer rolled off, making sure he didn't take the top of her dress with him, and scooped up the dog and his current chew toy. "Sorry, Perses, there are just some times when puppies aren't allowed on the bed."

"Spencer Reid, you're lucky you are six feet tall," she laughed, undoing the buttons of his yellow button-down while he utilized some artful acrobatics to stay where he was and place the dog on the floor at the same time. As soon as Perses had all four paws safely on the ground, Spencer returned to kissing his way down Calliope's neck while she tugged his shirt off, wrinkling her nose at the plain white undershirt he still had on.

"I hate winter," she told him in between kisses.

"Why?"

"You wear too many clothes," Calliope said quite seriously, pulling the offending undershirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor. Laughing, Spencer dragged the sheets up over them, carefully tugged off her thin paisley sundress and dropped it with the rest of the clothing next to the bed.

"Beautiful," he murmured against her lips as he kissed her again.

"Biased," she teased as he tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her jaw.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The clock chimed four and Calliope made no effort to move as Spencer held her cozily, running his fingers through her hair and reciting _The Odyssey_ in her ear.

"'I seem to hear the voices of young women, and they sound like those of the nymphs that haunt mountain tops, or springs of rivers and meadows of green grass. At any rate I am among a race of men and women. Let me try if I cannot manage to get a look at them.'

"As he said this he crept from under his bush, and broke off a bough covered with thick leaves to hide his nakedness. He looked like some lion of the wilderness that stalks about exulting in his strength and defying both wind and rain."

"I like listening to you recite," Calliope murmured, cutting off his narration, her eyes sliding closed is lethargic contentedness as she nestled her head closer against his neck, kissing his throat.

"I know," he whispered, keeping his voice the same muted volume as hers. "Why else would I be regurgitating Homer right now?"

"Because we're the weirdest couple in the world. Eighth century poetry after sex. I think we're the only ones, Spencer."

"Weird and a little dysfunctional," he smiled, kissing her temple. "Speaking of weird and dysfunctional, look at the dog."

Calliope blinked, rolled over and raised her head to see Perses, who had climbed inside the white undershirt and lay with his head poking out of the neck hole, happily chewing on the sleeve. She laughed silently as Spencer rolled onto his side behind her, tucking the microplush blanket snuggly around them and spooning behind her comfortably, his arm draped over her waist.

"How is that, out of a litter of eleven, you pick the strange one?"

"Well, he fits in. The others were too normal. That and, according to García, he claimed me."

"Come here, Sweetie," Calliope called, clutching the blanket around her as she leaned over the edge of the bed gesturing for the dog. Shaking himself, Perses toddled over to her hand and let her pick him up and put him on the bed. Turning on her side to face Spencer, she placed the puppy on top of the blanket in-between them. "He's perfect. Strange and abnormal, yes, but completely and utterly perfect. I love him. Have you figured out why he only chews your things?"

"I have looked everywhere and still have absolutely no clue," Spencer told her, scratching the Perses under his chin.

"He probably likes the way you smell," she smiled at him, leaning over to kiss him. "You know, I think Cosmo's right."

"I'm assuming we're not talking about the universe."

"No, silly. Cosmopolitan – the magazine."

"Ah. About what?"

"Make-up sex being the best. We should fight more often so we can have make-up sex more often." Calliope grinned, pulling him in for another kiss that seared his senses.

"No… way…" Spencer said between kisses. "I don't think either the dog nor I can take more fighting then we already engage in. The dog almost had a nervous breakdown."

"He has to learn some time. This isn't a peaceful household," Calliope shot back, grinning, but Spencer could still see the hurt in her eyes. He smiled at her, but inside he felt deflated. It would be a long time before he managed to fully flush out the tiny mustard seed of doubt that Lila had so callously planted in her mind.

"That doesn't mean we have to purposefully add to it."

"Why not?"

"Because that's crazy."

"Well, we have a problem then because I'm crazy, you're in love with crazy, and the dog's just all screwed up, moving towards crazy or neurotic, I'm not sure which, and he's not quite four months old yet. We might as well embrace it."

"So you can throw more shoes at the door? No, thank you."

"But I want to. This was absolutely amazing."

"Amazing or not, we're not fighting more then we already do."

"We're doing it now." Calliope snorted.

"Doing what now?"

"Fighting."

"Death of me, I swear to God." Spencer rolled his eyes and kissed her again. He could feel her smiling while she tangled her fingers in his head to pull him closer and the dog whined in protest as Spencer stopped scratching him to focus completely on kissing the woman lying next to him.

Giggling, Calliope picked Perses up and put him back on the ground, apologizing to the furball as he padded back over to the undershirt he'd been chewing on. She turned towards Spencer, pushing him onto his back and leaning over him, grinning deviously.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Well! This week has certainly been **_**interesting**_**, to say the least. I discovered that, in a wonderfully ridiculous twist of irony, I am terrifyingly and dangerously allergic to Zyrtec Liquid Gels. Only me. I would be the one to be allergic to allergy medicine. That takes some mad skills right there. Regular Zyrtec's fine, but I'm allergic to whatever gel they package the liquid ones into. I don't think I've ever felt this disgusting before. I look like I have AIDS or some equally heinous disease. Either that or I went swimming in the Nile during mosquito season. My feet are creeping me out. I sent my BFF Brutus (yes, that is my actual nickname for him) a picture of all the popped blood vessels in my feet and I totally grossed him out. At least one good thing came from discovering Zyrtec Liquid Gels give me terrible hives and send me into anaphylactic shock. I need mittens to keep from itching. If it weren't so itchy, it'd be hilarious.**

**On an up-note! I just updated! :D NO, WAY, RIGHT? It's not like you already know that, right? haha Sorry. Caffiene overload and too much David Crowder* Band's Illuminate CD and Newsboys' Go:Remixed CD. Also on an up-note, school's almost out for the summer. One more month. More good news: Michaels was having a half-off sale on PrismaColours, so I'm all excited. XD Can there be more? YES! My Ema, (she's like my second Mom. Ema is the Hebrew word for mom and that's what I call her.) is in the middle of finally! selling her house. Took forever. However! The biggest up-note of all is the successful surgery of the sweetest little boy ever. Watching the Prayer Trees at my church, my family's churches, my friends churches and my synagogue launch into action was crazy amazing. God's love never ceases to leave me speechless.**

**Love, Thalia**


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Falling in love with someone isn't always going to be easy… Anger… Tears… Laughter… It's when you want to be together despite it all. That's when you truly love one another. I'm sure of it." – Author Unknown_

o o o o

23 December, 2009

"Calliope, would you please, for the sake of my sanity, hurry up?" Spencer hollered from where he stood pacing in the kitchen with Perses following his every move. Looking at the clock for the umpteenth time, he sighed. They were supposed to have left for D.C. twenty-five minutes ago.

"I can't get the paint off!" Calliope yelled from their bedroom.

"We're late, Calliope. Forget the paint and just get dressed."

"I can't go to a BAU Christmas party with flecks of paint of my face, Spencer!" Calliope told him and he heard her turn the faucet back on, the pipes in the walls creaking to life.

"Then you shouldn't have been painting," Spencer commented in exasperation.

"You didn't tell me about the party in time! I need more a five days notice, dearest. I'd already promised Julie a private lesson. I can't back out on Julie. If I give her a reason not to trust me or think I won't be there for her, she'll never open up and tell me what the heck's wrong. Something's up and I'm still trying to get her to trust me."

"You couldn't have cut it the tiniest bit short?"

"Since when have you ever cut your visits with Nathan Harris or Adam Jackson short? As I recall, you were over an hour late to a Sunday Night Sellers Family Dinner a few months ago and I didn't kill you."

"That's different."

"How?"

"They're in mental hospitals, Calliope."

"So? What about Julie? She's only sixteen, Spencer. What if she ends up there because nobody took the time to listen to her and try to understand what's going on and why she's so closed of? I think she's cutting, Spencer. I don't know for sure. If you could have met Nathan or Adam before they needed to be in the hospital, wouldn't you have done what you could to try and prevent them from getting where they are?"

"Okay. I give up. You win." Spencer massaged his temples with his fingers. She held the dangerous power to inflict the worst migraines when she wanted to and he could feel one creeping up on him. "Did you try nail polish remover?"

"Nail polish remover?"

"For the paint, Calliope. To get the paint off." Spencer walked over to the cupboard and pulled out the Advil, washing a few back with a glass of tap water. "Perses, your mom's trying to kill me."

"Spencer, you're a genius!"

"She acts like she doesn't know this," he muttered to the dog as he tossed him a Milk-bone and rolled his eyes when the treat smacked the dog on the nose before clattering across the wood. Perses scampered after the treat and made quick work of chomping it to pieces. "No, you don't get more, Perses. You aren't the smartest, are you? You see the treat and just wait for it to hit you instead of either moving or catching it. Does your brain function at all?"

"Someone's cranky. You've always known the pooch is dense, don't be mean to him." Calliope shook her head as she walked quickly out of the bedroom, hopping as she slipped her heels on. She tripped getting the second one on and Spencer rolled his eyes again. Pushing herself back up, she walked towards him like nothing had happened and gave him a quick kiss. Calliope grabbed her purse and slipped on her coat. "Okay, seriously? What's your damage?"

"Forty-five minutes, Calliope."

"Okay, I get it, Father Time! I'm sorry. Why don't you just go without me if I'm pissing you off so much? I told you what happened. I apologized. You don't want to move past it. What more do you want me to say? I mean, I can make something up if it'd make you feel better. I was getting into my car and all of a sudden The Rohirrim came, tied me up, and carried me away to the Rohan to stand trial before King Éomer for crimes against The Oath of Eorl. I just got free. Better?"

"Your actions affect more than just you, Calliope."

"I know that. You think I don't know that? I know how much depends on my actions. I've been told my entire life. My actions affect my friends and family, you and the team, not to mention The Hobbit Hole, Scroll&Stylus, Dahlia and the eight hundred and seventy three people I employ. I get it, Spencer."

"Oh please. Calliope, you're completely spoiled. You've never had to really work for anything in your life. You've had everything handed to you on a silver platter. Everyone spoils you. _I_ spoil you."

Calliope looked as if he'd slapped her. Her face flushed in anger, her hand fisted at her sides, her lips tightened into a thin line and her arms started to shake.

"You know that's not true," she hissed furiously and folded her arms across her chest defensively. "I've worked my ass off for everything I've done. Yes, I may have had a helluva lot advantages, but I've worked my entire life. I worked at Dahlia since I could hold a fucking broom! Jill and I worked every summer in Colonial Williamsburg since we were ten and Keely joined us when she turned ten too! Grandpa and Mammy beat work ethics into all three of us the likes that no one in our damn private school knew. There were no handouts with Mammy and Grandpa. If you didn't earn it, you didn't get it. Mammy and Grandpa took over where the Jacob's failed with Keely and Jill because they were shitty parents and just didn't care. My parents took over and beat the same work ethic into them that they beat into me. What? Is it because I choose art? I'm not in law school like Keely? I'm not overseas with the Peace Corps after getting a degree in PoliSci?

"I took over Dahlia when I was twenty-two years old, Spencer, and not a single thing has happened on or off that property since then without my signature. I've started Scroll&Stylus when I was thirteen and I have worked my tail off to make it successful and reputable without attaching my name to it. I started The Hobbit Hole when I was twenty-three and finishing up grad school. I oversaw the entire damn renovation of the building to look like Middle Earth from Pittsburg and nothing happened without my approval. I look at every single paycheck before they go out each month. All eight hundred and seventy three of them! I go over the books for three companies every single month. Every event that goes on at Dahlia or The Hole comes across my desk and I approve, modify, and document every single one. So don't you _dare_ tell me I'm spoiled or don't work."

Spencer stared at her, his eyes equally angry. Neither one caved until Calliope turned on her spindly red heels and walked away, shrugging off her coat as she went. She threw the coat onto the couch and walked towards her office and closed the door after her. Fighting, fighting, fighting. Sometimes it felt like they lived to fight. Calliope loved him, she knew she did and she knew he loved her, but sometimes she just wanted to throttle him. Sinking into her office chair she picked up the picture frame next to her computer.

"I want you home, Jaybird," Calliope sighed. "I need my big sister and best friend back. Six and a half years across the world is too damn long."

The picture had been taken two Christmases ago when Jill and Steven, her husband, had last been home from Uganda for a visit. Calliope stood in the middle of the picture, flanked on either side by two brunettes with olive green eyes. The older of the two brunettes, Jill, stood half a foot taller then the redhead in the middle and the younger, Keely, a couple inches taller still. Jill stood next to her husband and Keely held the hand of her partner Trisha Martin. Ben and Brenda Sellers bookended the group, looking like the proudest parents on earth. Huge smiles lit up the faces of all seven.

The latest Sellers family portrait. It needed to be updated. They'd all grown two years older. Jill and Calliope were twenty-seven now, Keely was twenty-four. And Spencer was missing. The lanky doctor needed to be standing next to her, towering over her and completing the picture. Maybe Perses could be doing something ridiculous in the front.

Calliope put the picture back down and pushed herself up. It was her turn to be the bigger person and apologize first. When she came back into the kitchen, Spencer was still standing where she'd left him, his eyes closed and his hand massaging his temples.

"So, are we killing each other tonight or tomorrow?"

Spencer let out a hollow laugh at her question and looked up. His brown eyes were tired and Calliope stepped up and wrapped her arms around his waist without waiting for an invitation.

"I think we should kill each other tomorrow," Calliope continued when she felt his arms around her shoulders. "We should really tell our parents goodbye first."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too."

"I acted like an idiot."

"You were overdue for a trip down Jackass Boulevard. You skipped your last few turns."

"Can we start over?"

"Can't we always?"

"You look stunning."

"I even managed to dig up some cleavage. Just don't get used to it. I think it disappears at midnight."

Spencer laughed, truly laughed, and leaned down to kiss her.

"We need to stop fighting," Spencer murmured against her lips.

"We say that every time," Calliope whispered as she leaned into him.

"We've been here before," Spencer slid his hands to her hips and pulled her close.

"I recognize that tree," Calliope moaned as she deepened the kiss.

"We're supposed to go somewhere," Spencer tugged on her lower lip with his teeth.

"Who cares?" Calliope tangled both her hands into his hair and holding his lips to hers.

"The person causing my phone to vibrate," Spencer groaned as she ground her hips to his.

"Aww and here I just thought you were happy to see me," Calliope teased, breathlessly.

"Definitely happy," Spencer kissed her deeply before pulling away and fishing the phone out of his pocket, his voice cracking slightly when he answered, "Dr. Reid. No, you don't need to send out a search party, García. We're on our way. Perses was causing trouble and then we got a flat tire. We'll be there soon. Okay. Bye."

"Liar!" Calliope stared at him, mouth agape, as he hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

"Come on. Let's go before I change my mind, drag you back to the bedroom and we never make it to the party."

"Temping, but I think my partner-in-crime might actually deliver on that search party threat if we don't show up soon." Calliope slipped back into his arms and kissed his neck.

"Damn."

"I know, String Bean. How about we go to the party and I'll make it up to you later," Calliope caught his earlobe with her teeth and smiled when Spencer closed his eyes and groaned.

"Dirty?"

"Very dirty," she promised.

"Love you," he rasped.

"You better," she teased, kissing him once more before pulling away and grabbing her coat, whistling for Perses who came running. "Are the bags in the car?"

"All packed. Everything is in the car," Spencer said, grabbing the keys and following her out to the garage, locking the door behind them. "Come on, Pers. Your first plane ride, exciting huh? He's going to be a menace. Why can't we just kennel him or leave him with Morgan?"

"Leave my baby? What are these tongues you've slipped into? I don't understand… Speak English, man."

"Right, right, sorry. I forgot about your whole absolute refusal to leave your baby. Come on, runt, in the car. Too short to get in the car by yourself. Okay, come here. No. Over here. You are the dumbest dog ever. Berners are supposed to be intelligent, Perses. Why aren't you? What are you giggling at?"

Calliope smiled and ignored his question, getting into the car. "Hurry up, String Bean. We have to drop Perses off at Derek's before we head to the party."

"I'm coming."

"You most certainly will be."

"Cruel."

"Yeah, you just keep thinking about that, mister," Calliope laughed.

"Do you know how many things I can think about at once?"

"Well then, one of them should be the fact that, if you ever call me spoiled again, you're going to be a very lonely, very cold, very grouchy man for a very long time."

"Noted."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"About time you got here!" Penelope smiled through narrowed eyes and sized the pair up as they walked into the hotel.

"Down Cujo," Calliope snarked and handed her bright yellow coat to a hotel employee revealing the sparkly red, strapless cocktail dress. "We had some technical difficulties."

"Where is everyone?" Spencer asked as he returned the hug Penelope pounced on him.

"In the ballroom with the rest of the BAU. Go on. We'll catch up."

"Are you holding me hostage?" Calliope asked Penelope as Spencer raised his eyebrow and walked away without question.

"Flat tire, my ass. Who started the fight this time?"

"My being late, technically, but Spencer was ready to ride the train to China."

"Are we mad at him?"

"No," Calliope laughed and hugged her. "Ethel, you and I are a dangerous combination. Like gunpowder and sparklers or something. No, we're not mad at the idiot. It was his turn to be a moron, anyways."

"So you two are okay?"

"We're fine, Mama Hen. Pinky promise. You know how we do: we get annoyed about something stupid, yell at each other, stomp off with our underwear in a wad, realize we're both being ridiculous, come back, one of us makes a lame joke, apologize, promise to never fight again, kiss a little, sometimes a lot, and then start the process over again. It's our system. It's a little screwy, but it seems to work alright." Laughing, the two walked together into the ballroom where their family waited for them amidst the other FBI employees.

"How is it that, even with everyone else around here, the team sticks in a little cluster? God forbid you mingle," Calliope smiled and let Spencer take her hand in his.

"Aunt Callie!" Jack attacked the woman's bony legs, almost knocking her over as he grabbed her knees.

"Jack Attack, do we need to revisit why we don't grab people's knees and squeeze?" Calliope teased as she picked him up and hugged him.

"Not s'posed to."

"Why?"

"Because you go splat."

"Yes, yes I do, Jack. Do you remember why?"

"Hinges!"

"Close enough, Jack. We'll get there some day. So what are you doing here, buster?"

"Daddy said I could come."

"Daddy's turning into a softie."

The next few hours passed smoothly, filled with laughter and smiles. People mingled and chatted, the team stayed mostly together like a small family at a carnival or fair. Calliope had begun to loose track of all the people the team introduced her too, but years of events just like this had taught her how to fake it believably. Cocktail parties were an Olympic event in the social circle she grew up in and she held several gold medals.

"Fight again tonight?" Dave asked as he leaned against the table Spencer was against and handed the younger man a glass of wine.

"Yeah. For a while I had a neon sign over my head flashing the words 'raging moron' every two seconds."

"What happened?"

"She was running late and I was annoyed. I told her she was spoiled, selfish, and never had to work for anything."

"Oh, I bet that went over well."

"About as well as swallowing cyanide and expecting to live. Even as I was saying it, I knew I was wrong; I was just to annoyed and angry to censor. "

"Is that how you really feel?"

"Of course not, Rossi. I know it's not true. You know it's not true. The entire state of Virginia knows it's not true. Calliope's one of the most astoundingly selfless people I've ever met. I'm pretty sure she works harder than any of us do. She's pulled in a million different directions by all her obligations and she handles it with grace, figuratively, not literally. Even when she has a complete meltdown, she pulls back, eats about a gallon and a half of Mudslide ice cream, watches a few hours of Gilmore Girls even though I swear she can recite every line from all seven seasons and then attacks on all sides. You'd be terrified if you weren't so intrigued. It's like watching a lioness regrouping after missing an antelope and then going into full-on predator mode and attacking two antelope with even more ferocity than she used to attack the first one. I was just being a complete moron," Spencer scoffed.

"Head over heals."

"Pardon?"

"You're completely head over heals for her."

"I'm well aware of that fact, Rossi. I didn't realize you weren't."

"No, no… I knew. Everyone knows. It just seems like you two are always fighting," Dave commented as he took another sip of wine.

"Not always. A lot, but not always."

"I adore Callie, don't get me wrong – I think she's been good for you. You're happier since you've been with her, more at peace with yourself. But sometimes I wonder why or how you two stay together with all the fighting you do."

Spencer smiled wirily at Dave and shook his head. "She is the most exasperating person I know. She can infuriate me to the point of insanity, she can inflict a migraine that Advil can't cure, she can frustrate me, she can hurt me. I'm pretty sure she could give me an ulcer if she put her mind to it. But at the same time, a single smile from her can cure anything, her pain kills me, her tears hurt, seeing her sad is worse than being sad myself. I'd move the moon to make sure she never hurts.

"Fighting with her just reinforces how much I love her, because, even when I'm furious or hurt or ducking shoes, there's no where I'd rather be. Dave, I'd rather have a lifetime of fighting with her mixed in with a few perfect moments than one year of perfection and a lifetime without her."

"She's your Emma. Don't make the mistake I did. Don't let life get in the way," Dave told him and Spencer nodded. "No matter what, never stop fighting for her. If I could, I'd go back and fight tooth and nail for Emma. I'll regret not marrying her until the day I die."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

24 December, 2009

Spencer kissed her forehead and snuggled farther under the warm down comforter, wrapping his arms around her more tightly. He could feel Perses still curled in a ball at the end of the bed as he moved in an attempt to get more comfortable.

"Ungh."

"Ungh?"

"No move."

"I wasn't going anywhere," Spencer assured her as he tried to ignore the bright sunlight illuminating the edges of the drapes. He didn't want to know what time it was. Besides the light coming in around the edges of the heavy fabric, the hotel room was still dark and cool.

"No move."

"I wasn't."

"No move."

"Someone's coherent today."

"Ungh."

"We've covered that topic."

"Shut up," Calliope mumbled as she pulled the blankets around her tighter and buried her face in his side. "Light bad."

Spencer laughed softly and waited until she stilled again before manipulating the blankets so they prevented the miniscule amount of light infiltrating the room from reaching where she had hidden her face.

"Bad light, bad," she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut.

"You are completely hung over."

"No, I'm not," she muttered into his side. "I'm buzzed. If I were hung over I'd be doing my Linda Blair impression. Projectile pea soup everywhere."

"Pea soup?"

"We're watching The Exorcist when we get home."

"Okay. Go back to sleep, Sweetheart."

"Head ringing."

"Do you want some Tylenol?"

"No moving! Owww, loud Callie bad."

Spencer just laughed and hugged her to him, completely content, as he felt her breathing even out and the steady beat of her heart against his ribcage. If someone had told him that he'd be perfectly happy to lie in bed holding someone as they fell back asleep he never would have believed them, but here he was and he wouldn't want to be anywhere else; he didn't even mind not having a book to read.

Was this a normal life? He doubted it. Most 'normal' lives didn't include catching a private jet at two in the morning and flying across the country. But was _this_ normal? Loving someone to the point that everything else became superfluous when she was in his arms? If it was, he never wanted to be anything but normal again.

"What time is it?" Calliope whispered later that morning as she blinked the sleep from her eyes.

"Eleven forty-five."

"I'm surprised Perses hasn't been whining to go to the bathroom."

"I think he still has some canine sedatives running through his bloodstream."

"Ahh, right… the doggie downers. I think we need to keep some of those on-hand for the next time he decides that the porch would make a good after dinner nosh."

"I'll let you fight with the vet about that," Spencer chuckled

"It was like he was possessed! I couldn't get him to stop gnawing on the edge of the deck. It was insane. I needed a little doggie priest for an exorcism or something. When I put him in his crate to get him to stop, he just looked at me like 'Why are you doing this to me, Mommy? Don't you love me anymore?' I felt like the worst person on earth. Like all of a sudden the A.S.P.C.A. would come busting through the door and take me away for animal cruelty!"

"I think it takes a lot more than putting a dog in his crate to force the A.S.P.C.A.'s hand, Calliope."

"Not if you had seen the way Perses looked at me!"

"Perses, you're going to give your mom a nervous breakdown." Spencer laughed and Perses perked his head up at the mention of his name and stood up shaking himself. The pudgy little pooch waddled his away over to the cuddled couple before collapsing next to Spencer like he'd just run a marathon and resting his chin on the blanket covering Spencer's stomach, giving him a look that quite plainly said 'why aren't you scratching me yet?'

Calliope reached over and scratched the spoiled dog behind his ear. Reaching over to the bedside table, Spencer groaned when he saw the name on the LED display of Calliope's mobile. He handed her the phone before starting to push up out the bed.

"Where are you going?" She asked before answering the phone.

"To get dressed."

"No, stay."

"I'm not going to lie in bed naked while you talk to Brenda."

"Why not?"

"Because she'll know."

"She's in Virginia, Spencer."

"She has superpowers, I'm convinced of it," Spencer sighed. "If I do something she can disapprove of and use against me, she knows. I don't know how she knows, but she knows."

"Spencer, she's human," Calliope giggled. "She doesn't know we're having sex unless someone told her and I didn't and I'm pretty sure you didn't."

"I'm alive, aren't I?"

"Good morning, Mammy," Calliope said, still holding Spencer in place by the grip she had on his hair. "I know it's not morning in Virginia, Mammy, but it is morning in Nevada. Oh. Never mind. Not morning anymore. Good afternoon, Mammy. Better? Ha, I love you too, Mammy. Merry Christmas Eve. I'm sorry, Mammy. I know. It's the first Christmas I've ever spent away from Dahlia. Keely and Trisha will be there. You let them miss last years New Years Eve bash to be with Trisha's family without bodily injury, don't you think I could have a pass? Jill and Steve have missed Christmas five times in the past six years and you don't yell – I know. I'm sorry. Mammy, I promise, we'll have a Christmas do-over when Spencer and I get home. I know there's only one Christmas service a year, Mammy. I know the church won't have a do-over. That's not fair, Mammy. You know his job pulls him away at the last minute.

"Don't blame Spencer for me not being there tomorrow. Coming to visit Diana was my idea, not his. No, he's not going to get pulled away on a case – he used vacation time. Mammy, Spencer's not going to use vacation time to make sure he can be at every single Sellers family event. Because he'd get fired. If every agent asked for vacation time to make sure they were home on holidays, there would be no BAU teams available. I know. I know you just want the best for me, but, Mammy, I have the best. Yes, I will be there on New Years Eve. Yes, baring a case, Spencer will be there too."

Spencer listened silently as Calliope spoke to her grandmother, wondering why exactly the woman hated him so much and absentmindedly running his hand over Calliope's back, enjoying the silky feel of her skin under his fingertips. He relaxed again as Calliope said her goodbyes and promised to call tomorrow.

"She hates me," he sighed as she cuddled closer to him after tossing the phone aside.

"Yes, she does."

"Why? Nothing I do makes her happy."

"Oh, String Bean, please don't let her do this to you."

"Have I been a bad boyfriend or something?"

"Of course not! You've been pretty rockin', Magician. She's just a grouchy, eighty-year-old stuck in her own ways."

"I don't get it. She's okay with Trisha and with Steve, but when it comes to me, it's an all out war zone. As soon as I walk in the room it's Iwo Jima and I'm the Japanese."

"My poor baby. It'll be okay one day."

"Yeah, at my funeral she'll throw a party."

"Hey! I may agree that she's being judgmental and stupid, but she's still my Mammy."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Why is she okay with Keely? I mean, I'd think she'd be the one dealing with Brenda, not you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Keely's a lesbian. You'd think that would upset Brenda more than you being with me, but she's completely fine with it."

"I didn't think you had a problem with Keely and Trisha," Calliope drew back and studied him.

"What? I don't. That's not what I meant, Calliope. I meant that I don't understand why Brenda has a problem with you and I when she puts us besides Keely and Trisha."

"Spencer Reid, that's quite possibly the most judgmental thing I have ever heard you say."

"It's coming out wrong," Spencer muttered. "I don't mean it like that. You know I like Keely and Trisha. I just don't understand why Brenda doesn't have a problem with it."

"Keely and Jill have a small amount of permanent leeway with Mammy," Calliope said, kissing his neck. "You know that."

"Why?"

"Because the Jacobs make komodo dragons look like stellar parents."

"Komodo dragons routinely eat their young."

"That's my point. Naw, it took a little while for Mammy to fully acclimate to the idea of Keely having a Trisha not a Thomas, but she got there. Keelz and Trish have been together five years now? I think. Maybe. That sounds right. Trisha comes from a good southern family, she's going to be a doctor, makes Keely happy."

"And Steve? He's a decade older than Jill and Brenda loves him. She makes sure to sing his praises whenever I'm close-by."

"Yeah, Mammy had a massive freak-out when she found out about the age thing. Again, she got used to it. He keeps her happy and keeps her safe."

"Keeps her safe? He has her in Uganda, Calliope. It's a war zone."

"Technically, they met in Uganda. Jill went of her own accord and then met and fell for Steve."

"Alright. Is there an actual reason Brenda likes them, but not me?"

"She holds me to a different yardstick, String Bean. They aren't technically 'Sellers,' so there's less pressure on them."

"So it's my family? I'm not a southern aristocrat so she hates me? I'm not good enough for you?"

"I'm sorry, Spencer." Calliope bit her lip and tried to hug him. "I'm sorry."

"It's your life, not hers."

"I know."

"I've done everything to try and make her happy."

"I know."

"Why?"

"Because you love me and want my family to approve."

"Not that part."

"Then why what?"

"Why is she so critical?"

"She doesn't like to see me give away the things she could never have."

"What?"

"Mammy could never join the DAR, she's never fully accepted, people look at her funny when she's introduced as Brenda Sellers. She wants that acceptance, that life, but she'll never get it and she sees me not wanting it and she doesn't understand. She doesn't understand why I don't want it."

"It's not who you are."

"No, it's not. But it's who Mammy wants to be. She's always going to be the granddaughter of a slave, Spencer. Her family never left Dahlia – her grandma, her mom… they all worked as nannies, took care of the Sellers children. Mammy went to college, Spencer, but she came back to work as a nanny. Helped raise my dad, was helping with my brothers and sister. To me, she's just my grandma, just my mom. She's the woman who put her life on hold to raise me with my grandpa and loves me more than anything in the world. I'm her little girl and I'm slowly throwing away all her dreams for me.

"Yeah, she raised Jill and Keely too. They call her Mammy and she loves them as much as she loves me. She'll claim them just as quickly, if not quicker, as she'll claim me, but they're mostly following the path Mammy wanted for them. Keely may like girls, but she's becoming a lawyer, her girlfriends from a high-class southern family, joined the DAR, she… she's following the plan. Jill was a bit more difficult, but she's got her masters in PoliSci, she's working with the Peace Corps, she married the son of a wealthy Detroit politician and his wife. All she has to do is come home and give Mammy some great-grandkids and she's fulfilled the plan for life. I'm not so hot-to-trot on finishing the plan, Spencer."

"What more does she want from you? So you didn't join a bunch of groups she wanted you too. You've got a masters degree and an Atelier Certificate, you've studied art for twenty years, studied at some of the best schools in the world, you have three successful companies, you're in Williamsburg for some event or another at least four times a month. What more does she want from you?"

"To move back to Williamsburg, back into Dahlia, marry someone from within the social circle I grew up in, a man that comes home at the same time every night, doesn't go into work on days the banks are closed, have a dozen Sellers babies and hold bridge games with other boring rich wives."

"And I don't fit into that plan."

"Sorry, String Bean. She'll adjust. Some day. Hopefully before we die, because we both know Mammy's going to live forever. She's indestructible."

"Yeah."

"Keely and Trisha love you," Calliope offered weakly. "Jill thinks you're the best thing since the Red Wings grind line. Not _better_ than the Red Wings grind line, mind you, but a close second. You're in the top ten. Steve likes you."

"Jill and Steve haven't met me," Spencer laughed, letting her comfort him. "They might change their mind when they meet me."

"Not likely. Steve makes up his mind once and it takes a helluvalot to change it. Jill's my best friend, my sister. She knows I love you and, if I love you, she loves you. Jill's ecstatic that I found you. She was convinced I was going to die alone because I'd never deem someone worthy of me."

"Supportive family you've got there."

"I know, right?" Calliope smiled. "Seriously, though. You make me happy and that makes Jill happy. Plus, she's drilled Keely for information about you and deems you perfect."

"So that's why Keely was following me around with a notepad and writing down everything I said."

"She's gonna be a great lawyer."

"A scary one, at any rate."

"The cousins love you. So do the aunts and uncles. Grandpa likes you," Calliope said softly.

"Really?" Spencer looked down at her, trying not to be too hopeful.

"Grandpa loves you, Magician. Promise. You're everything he wanted for me."

"You love me, right?"

"More than anything, you goof."

"Okay. That's all I need." Spencer kissed her and smiled. "If you love me, I can deal with Brenda hating me."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"How's she doing?" Spencer asked one of the hospital's employees as he stood watching his mother sitting in the window with one of her journals in one hand and a pen in the other.

"It's a good day," the woman smiled at him. "She's been so excited about your visit. She spent the week telling anyone who would listen that her knight and the princess he rescued from the big, white castle were coming to visit her. It's the best Christmas present she could have been given."

Spencer nodded, but didn't take his eyes off of his mother. Calliope smiled and squeezed his hand.

"Do you think she'll like me? Will she like her Christmas present? I'm nervous, Spencer. I didn't get to really know her when I met her. I was more worried about you and –"

"She'll love you and she'll love her present," Spencer assured her, kissed her temple. Taking a deep breath, Spencer and Calliope walked over to where Diana sat, Calliope giving him a bit of space to great his mother. "Hi, Mom."

"Spencer!" Diana Reid stood up and dropped her journal onto the table and engulfed her son in a hug. "I can't believe you're here. So, where is she?"

"She's right here, Mom. You met her last March, remember? In Virginia?"

"No I didn't, Spencer. I haven't been to Virginia. I just know the pictures you sent me."

"Okay. Here she is. Mom, this is my girlfriend, Calliope Sellers. Calliope, this is my mom, Diana Reid."

"Oh, you're more beautiful than your pictures," Diana sighed happily and pulled the woman into a hug. "You make my son so happy."

"He makes me happy, Mrs. Reid."

"Does he treat you well?"

"Mom!"

"He treats me like a queen, Mrs. Reid. You've raised quite a son."

"Come. Let's go for a walk and get to know each other. Keep up, Spencer."

Calliope grinned over her shoulder at Spencer as Diana pulled her away towards the green hospital lawn. Spencer smiled as he watched for a minute as his mother and his girlfriend walked arm-in-arm, Diana towering over Calliope, both of the women in his life smiling at each other like they shared a secret. A good day, indeed.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hiya! I hope this chapter meets expectations and doesn't cause a lynch mob. :) I dunno why I said that. I'm a little hyper. I'm caffeineing myself up for the Canucks game tonight which happens to be on at the exact same time as my friend BrilliantDarkness' beloved (bleh!) Red Wings! We may be friends, but she has some terrible taste in hockey teams. Haha, just teasing, J. And yes, "caffeineing" is a word, I called it. :)**

**I have a new one-shot up! "Pizza, Popcorn and a Pinch of Spying." Everyone's liked it so far. It's Calliope and Spencer's first date from the POV of Derek and Penelope. Intriguing, no? Go read!**

**Dress pictures in Photobucket!**

**Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews. I love you guys sooo much! It's amazing to know yall love my little M.M. world as much as I do! Every one of them makes me smile. AAAANYWHO!! Thank's for reading! I hope you like it. Please, continue to tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**

**P.S. - If you love me, you'll root for the Canucks. ;)**

**P.P.S. - Can yall believe I'm at 111,142 words in _Mystery Muse_ alone?! I've written another 39,008 words in one-shots about C&S!! That's a total of 150,150 words for my M.M. universe! Good God! I never thought this story would grow so much or have such a following when I started in December!!**


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

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"_We tend to forget that happiness doesn't come as a result of getting something we don't have, but rather of recognizing and appreciating what we do have." – Frederick Keonig_

o o o o

31 December, 2009

"No, that's not where the food goes. The buffet is in the White Room, not Charlotte's Ballroom," Calliope pointed the men carrying tables towards the arches opposite of the ones they had been trying to go. "Come on, people. We do this every year. Food always goes in the White Room. I can draw you a map if you want one, though you shouldn't need a map because there are labels on the tables. If I can see them, you can see them. And I don't have my contacts in."

Calliope stood in the middle of the massive marble foyer of Dahlia and watched with the eyes of a hawk as people milled around her. Men and women in various uniforms strode purposefully between rooms, in and out of the towering front doors, up and down the thirty-two marble steps to where company vans were parked. Her eyes narrowed and she marched across the bustling foyer towards a woman pushing in crates of linens, her plush Goofy slippers scuffing on the floor slightly. Without greeting the woman, she reached into one of the crates and pulled out a folded tablecloth and inspected it, the frown lines on her forehead deepening.

"Martha, we ordered the Prussian blue tablecloths this year with saffron yellow runners and napkins. That's not Prussian blue. Where's the Prussian blue, Martha?"

"Miss Sellers, there was a complication with the Prussian blue tablecloths."

"That's all well and good, Martha, but, you see, I ordered and paid for a hundred and seven Prussian blue tablecloths back in November. Over a month ago. You've had over a month to fix complications. I did not order these. I didn't order Bleu de France blue. I don't want Bleu de France blue. I ordered Prussian blue because that's what I want and I've paid you very well to get me the Prussian blue that I ordered. Bleu de France does not go with everything else here, Martha. That's why I didn't order it. Did you think you could trade it and I wouldn't know the difference? If you're trying to get away with lying to me, at least own up to it when I catch you."

"I'm sorry, Miss Sellers."

"What do you have to do to get the Prussian blue? Because you have… five hours," Calliope pulled her mobile out of the pocket of her bright red Carnegie Mellon University sweatpants and checked the time. "The caterers start setting up in six hours. You have five hours to get the right tablecloths or I expect my money back for the Bleu de France. I'm not paying for something I didn't order, Martha."

"Yes, Ma'am. I-I'll… I'll, um…"

"Go, Martha," Calliope sighed and shook her head at the terrified woman.

"Thank you, Miss Sellers." Martha ran off and Calliope turned around to walk back towards the middle of the foyer, looking down at the bright pink clipboard she was holding.

"That poor woman's going to have nightmares," Spencer teased as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, earning a smack with the clipboard for startling her.

"She shouldn't have tried to lie to me," Calliope groused defensively. "Did she think I wouldn't notice?"

"Obviously, Emily Gilmore. That's why she tried," he chuckled, kissing the top of her head.

"Emily Gilmore? I'm not that bad! I'm not Emily Gilmore! She's like Ca- Hey! Wrong way, buckos! The white wooden folding chairs go in Charlotte's Ballroom. Don't forget the yellow tulle bows. Set them up along the walls, not in the middle. Intersperse the few white tables between them. A table every ten chairs. Where are the tables?" Calliope shrugged out of Spencer's arms as he started laughing and went over to correct the newest dilemma.

"For a sprite who ran away from this world, she sure knows how to command it."

Spencer tore his gaze away from his girlfriend to look up at Ben Sellers' quiet comment. The white haired man stood a couple feet away from him smiling fondly at his granddaughter. The mans' hair had been red once, the same bright red as Calliope's, and Spencer didn't doubt for a second that Calliope had more than a little to do with her grandfathers' white hair. Ben measured about the same height as Spencer, only an inch – maybe two – taller, but Spencer felt tiny standing next to him. The older mans' height had nothing to do with Spencer feeling inadequate around him and Spencer knew that. Calliope adored Ben Sellers; her grandfather was her knight in shining armor and everyone knew Calliope was Ben's Cinderella.

"Sometimes, she reminds me of one of my superiors from when I was over in Korea. General Paeglis. The general was one of the nicest men I've ever known, but tough as nails. You'd never know just by looking at him. He was short and not very intimating to look at, but, good Lord, was he demanding. He never let someone pull anything over on him. If it wasn't done right, he'd make you do it again and again until you got it right. Sometimes, I have to dig the same trench seven or eight times before it passed inspection. He could make the most hardened soldier shit himself. Callie's like that. She's so little and looks so naïve and unintimidating that a lot of people think they can get away with pulling one over on her, think she either won't notice or, if she does, would be too passive to confront them about it."

"And then she opens her mouth," Spencer laughed.

"And then she opens her mouth," Ben agreed with a smile and they watched Calliope shake her head and fix the bow on the back of the chair, making sure the two girls who were supposed to be fixing them were watching. "She can be a little dictator, my Callie can. I was a little worried when she took over Dahlia, but she runs it better than I did."

"Why were you worried?"

"I was worried she'd let people take advantage of her. I was afraid that she would try to make everyone happy instead of doing what was best for Dahlia and what she wanted."

"Calliope's not a people pleaser."

"Not anymore. She's a very different woman than she used to be, Spencer. Before she lived in Florence, Callie was an obsessive people pleaser. Especially when it came to Brenda. She still is where Brenda's concerned. If you had met her before she went to Italy, you wouldn't have recognized her. She used to run herself into the ground trying to make everyone else happy until she was so exhausted she either collapsed or broke down.

"She would take on everything that people asked of her and when she couldn't do or she failed at something, she'd beat herself up, tell herself she wasn't good enough, that she was stupid. In high school alone, she was captain of the pistol team, co-captain of the varsity cheerleaders, on the track team, golf team, debate team, academic decathlon, yearbook staff, and in all honours and advanced placement classes. Then she did Daughters of the Daughter of the American Revolution, several cotillions, BJJ – Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu – and art studies outside of school. I still have no idea how she made it out of high school.

"I remember going into her room her senior year and seeing her sitting at her desk with her lead laying on her AP biology textbook and crying because she was 'too stupid' and couldn't understand what they were studying. Callie used to spend hours and hours pouring over textbooks to try and keep up with classes she probably shouldn't have been in in the first place. I think she averaged about four hours of sleep a night trying to do everything. Callie claimed all the AP classes paid off when she tested out of her freshman year and half of her sophomore year at Washington and Lee, but as her grandpa I don't think it was worth it."

"No wonder she's always moving," Spencer commented, still watching Calliope buzz around the ballroom. "She's practically sedentary now, comparatively at least."

"Mmm," Ben agreed wordlessly and nodded thanks to a maid who brought him a cup of coffee. "Thank you, Angela. Brenda still hasn't gotten used to this Callie, but I like her better this way. Keely does too. Jill… well, Jill doesn't really know this Callie yet. She's only been home for brief visits since oh-three. It's going to be interesting if Jill and Steve ever leave Uganda and come home."

"How so?" Spencer looked up again.

"Jill's a mother hen type of person, especially with Callie. Jill's used to Callie doing whatever she tells her to do. She doesn't think Callie can take care of herself without help from other people and tends to treat her like a child. Don't take that the wrong way. Jill acts the way she does out of love and nothing less. They have a very strange relationship, Calliope and Jillian. Jill's only a few months older than Callie, but she's always been the protective one. I think it's because of her parents. She was always shielding Keely from the cruel callousness of Frank and Meredith. I've never met such terrible people," Ben scowled bitterly before turning to Spencer. "Take a walk with me. I want to talk."

"Alright," Spencer agreed and fell instep beside him, looking down when Perses ran after them to walk at Spencers' heel. Spencer silently followed Ben through the house and out a set of French doors leading to the back of the property. Neither man said anything for a while and Spencer couldn't help be a little nervous. Ben had never asked him to take a walk before. He was about to open his mouth to speak when Ben's soft voice cut him off.

"You know, I never told Calliope's grandmother, my wife Michele, what happened over in Korea or in Vietnam.

"Excuse me?"

"I fought in Korea and in Vietnam."

"I know. Calliope has a picture of you in your service uniform hanging in her office."

"Yes, I know. I fought two wars and I never told Michele what happened over there. Not really. Not the details. Do you know why I'm saying this?"

"I think so."

"Korea was hell. Vietnam was worse. I killed people. I killed men. I killed them before they could kill me. I killed boys. Sixteen boys. I can still see each of their faces when I close my eyes. It's a hard thing to take a man's life and I've taken seventy-three. And those are only the ones I know about," Ben stilled and turned to look at Spencer. "I never told Michele."

"And you want to make sure I don't tell Calliope the gruesome details of my job," Spencer nodded, voicing the older man's unspoken words.

"How many men have you killed, Spencer?"

"Three. A long distance serial killer Phillip Dowd, a homicidal rapist Brian Forester, and a man, Tobias Henkel, who was suffering from a psychotic break and living with three distinct personalities in his head."

"Why'd you have to kill them?"

"Forester was about to kill the victim he was holding – a fifteen year old girl named Megan. If I hadn't shot him, she'd be dead. Dowd and Henkel were holding me hostage. Dowd had Hotch and a roomful of other hostages as well. It was kill them or be killed."

"Exactly," Ben nodded. "You can still see their faces, can't you? They still haunt you."

"A lot of faces from my job haunt me, not just those three. The last words Tobias said was 'Do you think I'll get to see my mom again?' Tobias himself was a good person, troubled, but good. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He saved my life after the alter-personality of his father killed me while my team watched everything on the video he was streaming to them. They watched him drug and torture me. They watched him kill me. I was legally dead for about two minutes before Tobias gave me CPR. He brought me back. Tobias saved my life and I took his. That was two years before I met Calliope. She knows this happened, but only the vaguest details I could get away with. She only knows because that how I became addicted to dilaudid."

"Are you clean?" Ben asked seriously, his voice a mix of fatherly concern and apprehension.

"For thirty-seven months, thirteen days and approximately five hours," Spencer told him, pulling his one-year medallion out of his pocket and handing it to him. "I wouldn't allow myself to be with Calliope, or anyone for that matter, if I weren't clean. I would never put her through that. I love her too much to put her through that. I put her through enough already."

"You don't put her through anything she doesn't walk into gladly," Ben handed him back his medallion as they entered the stables. "You're a good man, Spencer. Callie knows that. I know that. I couldn't have asked God to send her a better man. Henry and Hannah would have liked you. And I'm… I'm sorry for the way Brenda treats you. She's… opinionated and more than a little hard headed."

"I know," Spencer nodded and picked up Perses as Ben slid a stall door open and walked towards a familiar chestnut thoroughbred.

"Hey Esther. How are you today?" Ben stroked the horses' neck and fed her the carrot he had grabbed when they walked into the stable. "You've missed Callie, haven't you? You don't get taken out as much as you'd like."

"Calliope's been talking about building a small stable on the property in Fredericksburg and bringing Esther up there," Spencer said distractedly as he pulled his sleeve out of Perses' mouth. "Don't chew my cloths, you crazy dog."

"Callie said he only chews your clothing," Ben laughed, his blue eyes sparkling, as he watched Spencer repeatedly pull the cloth from the dogs mouth or pushing the dogs head away gently.

"Yeah. No one knows why. Calliope thinks he likes the way I smell. I think he's just very strange. You're pretty strange, aren't you, Perses?" The dog looked up at the sound of his name and let out a funny noise, a cross between a bark and an exhale of breath, before twisting in Spencer's arms. "Hey. Stay still. Stop it. If I drop you, your mom will have my head on a platter. I know, you want to be put down, but I can't. I don't have your leash and without being on your leash you'll terrorize Esther."

Ben gave Esther a last few pats on her neck before walking away and sliding the stall closed again. Spencer leaned down and put Perses back on the ground now that there was a save barrier between the dog and the horses hoofs. Perses took a few bounding leaps towards Ben and crouched before him in a playful manner, like he was going to pounce.

"What's he doing?" the older man laughed as he watched Perses bounce around before him and bark.

"He wants you to play with him. He, uh, he wants you to try and catch him. Usually he has one of my socks or something similar when he does this because he knows he's not supposed to have my clothing so it's almost guaranteed that we'll chase him. It's his favorite game. He thinks it's hilarious."

Ben smiled and bent down the scratch the puppy. "It's pretty easy to see why everyone loves you, Perses. You make it hard not to fall in love with you. You made a good choice in getting him for Callie, Spencer. She adores him."

"I knew she wanted a dog. Subtlety is not one of Calliope's strongest suits. As soon as Mrs. Lyons brought him out, I knew he was it."

"Well, you certainly did well," Ben said standing up and started walking towards the stable exit.

"I, uh, I don't mean to be nosy or overstep my boundaries, but, if you don't mind me asking, why, uh, why do you still wear your wedding band?" Spencer asked, keeping stride with Ben as the older man looked down at the gold band on his left hand.

"No, I don't mind. I met Michele in nineteen fifty-four when I was twenty-two years old. Her name was Michele Kirsten Lawrence. She had rich, chestnut brown hair and these gorgeous brown eyes and the most beautiful laugh. She was a beautiful concert pianist. She was my first and only love. I had just gotten back from Korea, I'd been back about a week or so, and I went to visit some friends of mine who had been married while I was overseas. When I got there they were babysitting a nine-month-old little baby girl named Sarah August Lawrence. Named after the college in Westchester County where her mother attended. Sarah was absolutely adorable. She had these downy tuffs of brown hair and this adorable, gummy smile and she stole my heart instantly. She was the happiest baby I'd ever met. After I'd been there for an hour and a half, maybe a little more, Harry got a phone call. His father had had a heart attack. I said, of course I would stay with Sarah until her mother came to get her and that Harry and Molly should go straight to the hospital.

"I played with Sarah for a while and eventually her mother came back to pick her up. She let herself in, saw me with her daughter, the friends she'd left her with nowhere to be seen, and blew a gasket. Her first worlds to me where 'Get away from my daughter, you pedophile!'" Ben laughed fondly at the memory. "Four months later, we were married at Dahlia and I adopted Sarah."

"What happened to Sarah's father?"

"He was killed in a motorcycle accident while Michele was pregnant. Our family doesn't have a very good track record with cars, apparently."

"Good to know," Spencer frowned and did a funny side step to avoid kicking Perses as he darted between his legs to run up the steps towards the house.

"Henry, Calliope's father, was born three years later while I was in medical school. Sarah and Henry were very close. Henry idolized Sarah. He thought she walked on water. We had ups and downs as, Michele and I, our family. Every family has ups and downs. She always had to win the fights and I always refused to give in or admit I was wrong. But nothing was beyond fixing. We always found a way to work things out, always found a way fix things. Most of the time it was by her throwing something at me. Once she threw a giant glass ashtray at my head. That's how we fixed things: I ducked."

"You fought a lot?"

"Constantly. Over everything."

"If you fought so much, why'd you stay together?"

"Simple. I loved her. More than I can ever begin to tell you." Spencer looked up at Ben, startled at how similar the answer he had just heard was to the answer he'd given Dave eight days ago after he and Calliope had been close to an hour and a half late to the BAU Christmas party after they'd fought about something stupid. "Michele made everything in my world right. No matter what was wrong, she made it right. No matter how much we fought, no matter what she threw at me, I never once wanted to be anywhere but right beside her.

"When she got sick, Gebore, our old dog, knew it first, knew it even before Michele knew it. He followed her around, never left her side. In nineteen seventy-six, she was diagnosed with CML – Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia. She fought for one year, four months and twenty-seven days before she passed away. She left me on December eighteenth, nineteen seventy-seven at eight thirty-two in the evening – two days after our first granddaughter was born.

"I took my ring off for a month about three years later, thinking it was time. I took out a woman I'd been friends with for decades, one of Michele's friends, Helen. Her husband had past away several years prior to Michele's death. I took her to dinner once and then entire time I felt like I was cheating on Michele. That night, I took my wedding ring out of its box and put it back on and I haven't taken it off since. I'm still married, Spencer. She still holds my heart. She's been gone for thirty-two years, but I love her like I married her yesterday.

"Sometimes, I think that God sent Michele back to me in Calliope. She's so much like her grandmother. Her temper, for one, her smile, the way she talks, the way she laughs, the way she loves. She's just like Michele."

"What happened to Sarah? I didn't even know she existed," Spencer asked after several minutes of contemplative quiet.

"She's fine. She lives in New York City. Sarah, my sweet, shy Sarah, she doesn't like the attention our family garners. She changed her name back to Sarah Lawrence and became a ballerina. She owns a ballet school in New York and teaches, ironically, at Sarah Lawrence. She can't dance anymore. Years of dancing gave her a bum knee, but she loves teaching."

"She never got married?"

"She is married. To ballet. That's her passion, always has been. I fly up to New York and see her twice a month." Ben stopped just short of the door to the house and turned to look at Spencer. "I see the way you look at Callie. It's the same way I looked at Michele. You do right by my little girl."

"I will," Spencer nodded solemnly before Ben pulled him into a fatherly hug he wasn't prepared for, but, at the same time, didn't want to end.

"Come on. Let's go in before Callie sends out a search party."

The pair walked back through the house and into the foyer they'd started out in, which, for all the activity and noise, might as well have been Central Station. Spencer's eyes found Calliope instantly, her pastel blue Washington and Lee hooded sweatshirt – she called it a 'hoodie,' if he remembered correctly – and bright red fleece bottoms making her stand out almost as much as her hair and the authority with which she commanded the room. He was dating a dictator. A tiny, unassuming dictator.

Calliope wasn't paying any attention to the people milling around her, though, as she hugged a tall brunette, Keely, and then an equally tall blonde, Keely's partner Trisha. Two dress bags and a paper Saks shopping bag were handed to Angela, the maid who had brought Ben coffee, with instructions to take them upstairs and set them out in Keely's bedroom. The three women stood gossiping and laughing, teasing Calliope about her Goofy slippers, which she defended vehemently as the most comfortable slippers of all time, before Keely spotted Ben out of the corner of her eye and stopped midsentence to run over and hug him.

"Hi, Grandpa!" She smiled and kissed his cheek before letting go and moving back a few steps.

"Hey, Munchkin. Have you said hi to your Mammy yet?"

"Not yet. I haven't seen her," Keely smiled as she hugged Spencer in greeting. "We just got here, like, ten minutes ago, Grandpa."

"Well, you'd better hop to it before she finds you," Ben teased. "Hi Trisha."

"Hi, Ben," the blonde hugged Ben briefly before hugging Spencer. Sometimes, this family hugged more often than he was comfortable with.

"Go find Brenda," Ben ordered laughing at the uncomfortable expression Spencer apparently wore as the two women walked away.

"I really need to thank you," Spencer said without taking his gaze from Calliope. Even without looking at Ben, he could feel the older mans' gaze on him.

"For what?"

"For giving me a chance." Spencer turned to look at him. "If you hadn't given me a chance, I would never have had a shot in hell with her."

"I don't know if that's true," Ben told him thoughtfully.

"I do. Ben, you're the sun to her. Her life revolves around you. You're more than just her grandfather – you're her dad. You're… you're everything to her."

"You were worth a chance. You still are. I'm going to go see if I can get Halina to whip me up some lunch."

Abruptly, Spencer found himself alone as Keely and Trisha had gone off to hunt down Brenda and Ben walked towards the kitchen and the sandwich Spencer was sure awaited him. He wasn't alone for more than a minute before Calliope was next to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and kissing him. Smiling, he held her tightly and kissed her back, the elation of knowing Ben Sellers, the man whose approval he wanted so badly, liked him and believed he, Spencer Reid, despite all of his failings, deserved to be with and be loved by Calliope triumphing over his desire to make sure he didn't do anything to add fuel to Brenda Sellers hatred of him. And kissing Calliope this way, in the middle of Dahlia's foyer, would definitely add several gallons of lighter fluid to that fire.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

It was three hours before the guests were supposed to arrive and Calliope, Keely, and Trisha were all upstairs getting their makeup and hair done. Spencer had long ago taken refuge from the chaos and, if he was honest, hidden from Brenda in the library, a place he felt very comfortable. Already, he had read through several of his favorite books, a few he had never read before, and played four games of chess with Ben, who was currently upstairs taking a nap.

Libraries had always been a place of sanctuary for Spencer, a place of solitude that kept him safe from his constant tormentors, a quiet place where he could immerse himself in knowledge or stories to his hearts content. Libraries contained the entire world in a room. They held the bravest adventures, the saddest romances, the most compelling memoirs. A person could go anywhere just by opening a book and for so much of his life he'd just wanted to escape. He didn't want to escape anymore. He hadn't in a long time. Spencer was more than happy being exactly where he was and he knew no book could take him anywhere better.

Spencer wandered to the farthest corner from the door to the rest of the houses. In an alcove with a large picture window sat two well-worn wing chairs with a cherry side table between them. A fairy lace doily, an item Spencer never really understood, rested on the table and a faded book sat in the middle of the table. If he had been anywhere else, he would have thought someone simply left the book out instead of putting it away, but nothing was left out of place at Dahlia. The book was supposed to be there.

Picking it up, Spencer quickly read the cover. _The Poems & Plays of Robert Browning_. It was the Modern Library edition from nineteen thirty-four. There weren't a lot of these left around; Spencer knew because he'd spent a good deal of time looking for one for his mother. Still holding the book, he sat down in one of the wing chairs and opened the book. He was about to skip to the first poem, but a paragraph of small, neat script caught his eye and he stopped to read what had been written.

_To My Beautiful and Beloved Wife Michele – I love you with all my heart. I know I don't tell you enough how much you mean to me. But I want you to know that I never forget how blessed I am to have you. I may not be as eloquent as your Mr. Browning, but I love you enough to move the moon. I hope this book, with its beautiful poetry and prose, will tell you all the ways I love you and all that I am so inept at expressing. All My Love, Benjamin_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope wiggled into the short, ruched blue and green cocktail dress and Spencer laughed as he watched her. When she had the dress exactly right, she waved him over and he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"If you want me to zip up your dress, you come over here," he teased while he fixed his tie. Sticking her tongue out at him, she hurried over and turned around so he could get to the zipper. As soon as the dress was secure, she turned around and kissed him before undoing his tie and redoing it. "You know, before I met you, I managed to dress myself all on my own."

"Yeah and, judging from the pictures Ethel showed me, you wore some pretty strange outfits before you met me," Calliope smiled and kissed him again before tucking the end of the emerald green tie under his black vest.

"I love you," he smiled.

"And I love you. I need your help with my necklace too," she told him as she walked towards the vanity and opened a black velvet box.

"Jeeze, Sweetheart. I think that weighs more than you do."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Oh my God," Derek muttered what everyone on the team was thinking as they walked up the marble steps to the intimidating white plantation house.

"Chyeah. What you said," Penelope tilted her head all the way back to look up at the third story and Kevin put a hand on her back to make sure she didn't lean far enough to fall.

"Are we at a castle, Daddy?" Jack asked, his eyes wide.

"No, Jack. We're at Aunt Callie's house."

"This isn't Aunt Callie's house," Jack frowned.

"You're right," Aaron amended. "This is where Aunt Callie grew up."

"I didn't know Aunt Callie was a princess."

"The American version of a princess anyway," Will smiled at J.J.

Slowly, the group made their way through the I.D. check and into the packed foyer, looking around at the sea of unfamiliar faces.

"Daddy! Daddy! It's Aunt Callie and Uncle Spensor!" Jack exclaimed in a hushed whisper as he pointed up to the balcony of the second story where Calliope stood with Brenda, Ben, Spencer, Keely and Trisha.

"Wow. She looks stunning," Dave smiled when he looked up where Jack was pointing.

"Yeah, and Reid looks so awkward," Emily laughed. "Oh, I bet he's wishing he could be anywhere but where he's standing right now."

"Reid is with the wrong girl," Derek laughed too. "She's completely in her element. Look at her. Reid, on the other hand, looks like a fish outta water. He hates being in the public eye and yet he's dating Toothpick. Oh, I wish I had my camera with me."

"You are terrible," Penelope laughed and gave Derek a gentle shove. "Leave Lucy and Ricky alone, Fred."

"Thanks for coming everyone! We are so glad that all of you are here to bring in 2010 with us here at Dahlia! I know most of you are return guests to our new years bash, but we do have some new party members this year. So, for our new friends I'll do a run down

"On your left you'll see a set of large French doors, that is Charlotte's Ballroom where you are welcome to dance until your feet fall off. On your right and thru the arch is the White Room or, as I like to call it, Calliope's Childhood Time-Out Room where a huge buffet is set up. If you don't eat it, we'll be finishing it off for three months, so please, if you love me, you will eat."

"I think she's given this speech before," Will whispered in J.J.'s ear and she smiled and kissed his cheek.

"If you follow the very old family paintings past Charlotte's Ballroom there is a the library where a cornucopia of games have been set up, all of which are kid friendly. Go the opposite direction past Calliope's Time Out Room and there is a room that we have set up as a makeshift movie theater and a tower of DVDs and I will let you fight over what gets played. Be out back by the fountain right before midnight or you will completely miss out. So! Without further ado, lets get this party started!"

Calliope jumped up on the banister and Penelope's mouth fell open and her eyes wide. "Please tell me she's not going to slide down that banister."

"Oh, I think she's gonna slide down that banister," Emily said, staring, as Aaron covered Jack's eyes to make sure he didn't get any ideas about trying as well.

"I can't look," Penelope closed her eyes and turned away. "Tell me when she lands."

"It's safe," Kevin smiled when Calliope landed on her feet to a round of applause and took a bow. Penelope opened her eyes and smiled at Spencer and Ben as they walked down the staircase talking quietly.

"Look at that," she elbowed Derek.

"Ow, Princess. Watch the ribcage with those pointy elbows o' yours." Derek rubbed his side as he looked at what his best friend was pointing at. "Huh, I guess Boy Genius only has to worry about winning over one grandparent."

"He's gonna need some crazy luck with the other one," Emily grimaced and raised her eyebrows.

Spencer joined his family immediately, but it took a long while before Calliope was able to join them. The family laughed and smiled, talking about anything and everything. Finally, Spencer felt a small hand slip into his and he looked down to see his sweetheart smiling up at him before she had to let go of his hand to pick Jack up.

"Hey, Jack Attack."

"You're sparkly, Aunt Callie," Jack fingered the heavy necklace of diamonds and emeralds around Calliope's neck.

"Sparkly is an understatement," J.J. said softly as she stared at the necklace.

"How much did that cost?" Emily asked while trying to count the glittering gems.

"It's on loan from Chopard."

"Chopard?" Penelope's jaw dropped.

"Why do I have the feeling they're speaking a new language?" Will asked, only half joking.

"Chopard. A luxury jewelry company from Geneva," J.J. rolled her eyes.

"They're famous for watches and jewelry, but they have amazing _Haute Joaillerie_," Penelope explained. "It's the jewelry version of _Haute Couture_. Never mind. Men are stupid."

Calliope smiled and laughed, kissing Jack's forehead as he traced the gems, mesmerized. "There's some hope for them, Ethel. Don't discount them completely just because they don't know Chopard."

"If you wanted to keep it, how much would it cost?" Emily asked.

"Three million. Almost four. There's a hundred and ninety-one carats of Columbian emeralds and sixteen carats of diamonds."

Derek let out a soft whistle and shook his head.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"He's still here, Joe," Mark laughed as he patted Spencer on the back.

"Amazing. Last year I would have bet this scrawny piece of meat wouldn't have lasted six months, but here he is again. Stunningly, harvester-track-less. Who'da thunk it?" Joseph chortled and shook his head. "You've learned avoidance skills well. There's hope for you yet. You keep avoiding Brenda like that and maybe she'll forget you exist."

"Funny, guys, funny. You should take it on the road," Spencer rolled his eyes and smiled, enjoying laughing with the two men even if it was at his expense. He liked the feeling of being part of a family – one with uncles and aunts and cousins.

"Are you two being mean to Spencer?" Keely asked as she popped up between Mark and Joseph, giving each of their cheeks a quick kiss. "You are a terrible when you get together. You should really come with a warning. Don't feel too bad, Spence. You should have seen what they did to Steve. They only had three weeks to properly torment him before Steve and Jill went back to Africa so they tried to condense two years worth into twenty three days. Poor Steve was comatose, by his own choice, by the time they left."

"I'm glad I live in Virginia then," Spencer laughed.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Okay. So, let me try this again," Emily sighed and took another sip of her wine. "Eli, Isaac, Ashanti and Breelyn are Mark and Ashley Gregg's children. Mark is Rachel Berton's brother. Rachel is married to Joseph and they have… three children?"

"Wrong," Penelope smiled. "You got Eli's family right, big surprise. Are you still sorta-kinda dating him?"

"It's nothing serious," Emily blushed. "He's smart. He's nice. But he's going back to Iraq in the fall. We're just playing it by ear."

"Rachel and Joseph have two children – Shawn and Patrick. They're a couple years older than the Sellers or Gregg spawn. Shawn has two boys. Chris, fourteen, and Robby, eleven. Those two over there. Their scummy mother Kaitlyn ran off with her yoga instructor four years ago leaving Shawn to raise them by himself. Both Mark and Joseph work at Dahlia with the animals. Mark's technically Dr. Gregg. He's Dahlia's personal vet and he makes more in a year than any specialized animal surgeon. He had the right idea," Penelope laughed. "That's why the families are so close. Mark, Rachel and Joseph grew up with Henry, Luce's dad, because their parents worked at Dahlia too."

"That's not fair. You used your computer," J.J. laughed at Penelope, shaking her head.

"Do you know how Brenda fits into the picture? I don't understand that," Dave asked looking at the queen of snooping as she sipped her cocktail.

"As best I understand it, her family used to be slaves at Dahlia. After the Civil War, her grandmother took the Sellers surname and stayed on in her position as nanny to the Sellers children, same with her mother. Brenda was born at Dahlia and she's never left. She has a degree in child psychology, but she just stayed here as a nanny."

"So, she's not actually related to Callie?" Aaron asked.

"Well, if you all are done gossiping about my family…" Calliope came up behind Emily and smirked at the startled looks on their faces. "I love doing that. Never gets old. Mammy might be related to me. No one really knows. All that unpleasant business people try to pretend never happened."

"Why do you keep leaving, Aunt Callie?" Jack asked from where he sat in Aaron's lap.

"Because I have to talk to everyone, Jack. It wouldn't be very nice of me to ignore my friends and guests."

"But you're my aunt," Jack pouted as he slid off of Aaron's lap and ran over to her. Calliope laughed, but picked him up and held him to her hip.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Derek, you need a girlfriend," Calliope stated matter-of-factly as she nodded a thank you to the waiter who brought around a tray of drinks.

"What?"

"You need a girlfriend," she reiterated and Spencer smirked from where he stood talking to J.J. with his back to Calliope and Derek.

"I don't need a girlfriend, Toothpick," Derek snorted.

"Oh yeah? Then why are you so cranky?"

"I am not cranky."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Why don't you just worry about Dr. Reid and leave me to enjoy my very happy, very hot non-girlfriend lifestyle."

"You'd be happier if you had someone to head home with for more than one night."

"Don't push your luck, Toothpick." Derek warned with a smile.

"Or what? You'll spank me? Ah! No! No, no, no, Derek. Don't – Ah! Spencer!"

"Oh no. You got yourself into this one, Sweetheart, and I'm going to let you get yourself out of it," Spencer shook his head.

"But… but… Don't look at me like that, Derek. You wouldn't do anything at a party. Not in public like that. I'm in heels. I have no chance. I can't outrun you in heels! You wouldn't turn on a woman carrying a BAU baby, would you?"

Spencer choked on his wine, nearly spewing the mouthful over J.J., who pounded on Spencer's back as he started coughing violently. _Carrying a BAU baby_. Whirling around, Spencer looked at Calliope, still trying to stop coughing. Calliope stood holding Jack up in front of her like a human shield, edging away from Derek, who had started laughing at her.

"Scared you there, didn't she, kid?" Derek laughed harder when he spotted Spencer sputtering and coughing.

"Uncle Dewek, don't hurt Aunt Callie!"

"Oh, Jack Attack, your Uncle Derek isn't gonna hurt me," Calliope laughed, shifting Jack to hug him and kiss his forehead. "We were just joking around, baby. You are so your daddy's son, Jack Hotchner."

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" J.J. asked quietly after everything settled down and Spencer had stopped choking.

"Thinking about what?"

"Having a little BAU baby," she smiled up at him.

"I…"

"Don't lie to your sister, Spence."

"With her, yeah. One day."

"You'd be a good dad."

"You think?"

"I know."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Years!"

Calliope tightened her grip on Spencer as the cold chilled her bare legs and arms. She leaned into his kiss and felt everything fade away until only she and Spencer were left. Eventually, Spencer drew away and Calliope looked up at him breathlessly.

"You're really good at that, String Bean," she smiled at him before pulling him back for another kiss. Spencer hugged her close and they watched the fireworks light up all of Dahlia.

"For beauty being the best of all we know sums up the unsearchable and secret aims of nature, and on joys whose earthly names were never told can form and sense bestow; and man has sped his instinct to outgo the step of science; and against her shames imagination stakes out heavenly claims, building a tower above the head of woe. Nor is there fairer work for beauty found than that she win in nature her release from all the woes that in the world abound; nay with his sorrow may his love increase, if from man's greater need beauty redound, and claim his tears for homage of his peace."

"Robert Browning." Calliope looked away from the fireworks to look at him. "That was Grandma's favorite. Grandpa used to read to me from her book every night. How did you…? No, I don't want to know. Another breathtaking magic trick from my wonderful magician. I love you, Dr. Reid."

"I love you too, Miss Sellers. Happy New Years."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I hope you liked chapter twenty-nine!**

**Pictures of Calliope's outfit in Photobucket! Very pretty. Go look. :)**

**The love story of Ben and Michele Sellers is a wonderfully true love story that is so dear to my heart, even down to the throwing of the giant glass ashtray and the book of Robert Browning poetry. How do I know this? Because it's the love story of my beloved Grampa and Grama. My wonderful mum, my best friend in the entire world, is Sarah. Though, my Grampa and Grama had three girls after my mum. If I find a love half as wonderful as that of my Grampa and Grama, I would be content and happy. Grampa loved Grama more than anything in the world, except possibly my mum. Mum was totally Grampa's favorite even though he'd never say it, but I know it's true.**

**Anyways. Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! Please, tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world." - Anne Frank_

o o o o

14 January, 2010

Calliope collapsed, exhausted, onto the hard, uncomfortable mattress and rolled onto her side, too tired and sore to bother changing into her pajamas. Perses whined softly and crawled closer to her until he was snuggled next to her stomach. Blinking slowly, fighting to stay awake, Calliope ran a hand over Perses' head and dialed Spencer's phone number. She brought her iPhone to her ear, but her eyes closed for the last time before his voice replaced the ringing.

"_Calliope?" Spencer smiled into the phone and leaned back against the headboard, tossing his book onto the bed next to him. "Calliope? Hello? Sweetheart, can you hear me?"_

Ben gently pulled the cell phone from Calliope's lip hand and kissed her forehead, smoothing the hair away from her eyes and smiling. Perses just barely raised his head off the scratchy blanket to look up at him, blinking blearily, before putting his head back down and closing his eyes. "Hi, Spencer. She fell asleep before you picked up. She's exhausted."

"_How's everything going?" Spencer couldn't help but be slightly disappointed that he wouldn't get to talk to Calliope tonight, however talking to Ben was a close second and he wouldn't turn the opportunity down._

"It's worse than we thought it would be. It's like the world's been turned upside down. This is the first time I've sat down since six o'clock this morning. Callie didn't even change out of her cloths; she collapsed. She was asleep as soon as she hit the pillow. Perses is confused as hell. He hasn't left her side, just follows at her heel." Ben tugged off his boots and sat down against the cracked concrete wall. "I think my body's getting too old for this."

_Spencer swung his legs over the bed and slipped his feet into the warm green slippers 'Santa' had left under the Christmas tree for him. January was turning out to be even colder than December and he tugged the grey knit cardigan around himself more tightly. Walking quickly from the bedroom into the kitchen, he set the coffee maker up while holding the mobile to his ear with his shoulder. "Maybe you two should –"_

"No. This is where we need to be," Ben said and stretched his tired muscles, wincing as more than a few of his joints popped. "This is where we're needed. I haven't seen this much death and devastation since Vietnam. Everyone's doing their best, but most of the medical supplies were destroyed and you can't even enter the hospital to try and salvage what usable materials might be left. People are coming in faster than we can help them."

"_The images on the news keep getting worse," Spencer said as he poured sugar into his coffee. _

"The reality keeps getting worse," Ben sighed. "We're completely out of all the water we brought. Most of the food's been given out. We have another plane full of water bottles and food getting here tomorrow. A second plane's coming in tomorrow with some decent medical supplies. I called some old colleagues and they rounded up everything we need here."

_Carrying his mug of coffee back to the bedroom, he listened as Ben talked. Without Calliope and Perses, the house felt so lifeless; the stillness left him with a feeling of uneasiness. Spencer didn't know how she had lived in this big house by herself for three years. Tonight was only the second night she'd been gone and already the home seemed hollow and he felt lonely. He missed her and wanted her home again. Settling back down in bed, Spencer wondered if this was how she felt when he left on cases, if the house felt as empty without him as it felt without her. "I'm sorry. Can you repeat that? I didn't hear you."_

"Her name's Emeline Noel. She's going to be three in March. She's attached herself to Callie. Both of her parents are dead. Her mother died giving birth. It was just her, her father and her grandmother. The father – I couldn't get his name – he shielded Emeline when their apartment collapsed and he managed to get her and the grandmother here, but we couldn't save him; he'd just lost too much blood. We're not sure if her grandmother, Chanté, is going to make it. If she doesn't, I don't know what's going to happen to Emeline."

"_Is Emeline okay?"_

"A few minor cuts and abrasions, but, by some miracle, she's all right. She's more scared than anything else. I haven't seen much of her, not close up anyways. I've been too busy setting fractures, sewing up cuts, anything we have the tools to do. Emeline picked Callie to fixate on. If Callie puts her down, even for a second, she starts wailing. She finally wore herself out and fell asleep, but I have a feeling the minute she wakes up she's going to come looking for Callie."

"_What's Calliope been doing?" Spencer looked over at the picture of them sitting on the nightstand and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. "She has no medical training."_

"No, she doesn't. She's been doing a little bit of everything. She's acted as nurse, childcare, comforter, food and water provider, list maker. Snapping a lot of pictures when she gets a free second." Ben scrubbed his face with palm and sighed. "Perses has turned into the children's distraction. He's been surprisingly calm about it. As long as he can see Callie, he'll let the children hug and squeeze him, pretty much anything they want to him. Pet therapy, I suppose."

"_He's a good dog," Spencer nodded even though Ben couldn't see him. "A little off, but all-in-all good. For a psychological treatment, animal-assisted therapy really gained popularity surprisingly quickly. Psychologists have done extensive research, still are, and what they've found is astounding. ATT has been proven to reduce anxiety, lower blood pressure, assist in long and short-term memory, and even increase vocabulary. There was this Yorkshire terrier in World War Two named Smoky who was brought to an army hospital to cheer up his owned Corporal William Wynne, but the all the patients loved the dog, so Dr. Charles Mayo started taking Smokey around the hospital with him when he dealt with patients. Smoky worked as a therapy dog for twelve years after that. Elaine Smith began the formal, systematized approach to ATT and Nancy Stanley expanded ATT to include more than just canines._

"_I find Smoky particularly fascinating because they used her in the battlefield. A GI found her in an abandoned foxhole in New Guinea when she was roughly a year old and Wynne bought Smoky for two Australian pounds – about six dollars and forty-four cents American at the time – and she backpacked with Wynne until the war ended. Smoky actually received twelve combat credits and eight battle stars. She saved Wynne's life when she warned him of an LST. Because of her, he ducked and the shells that killed the eight men with him didn't hit Wynne. She parachuted out of a tree from thirty feet up. That doesn't sound like much to a human, but, for a four-pound dog, that's pretty impressive._

"_What she's most well known for is helping engineers run wires through damaged pipes to build an airbase in the Lingayen Gulf. If they hadn't had Smoky, they would have had employ at least two hundred and fifty men to spend three days digging out seventy feed of pipes to replace the wire and she had it finished in a few minutes. On Veterans Day in oh-five a bronze sculpture of Smoky in a combat helmet was placed atop a two ton slab of granite on Smoky's grave in Lakewood, Ohio."_

"Animals never cease to amaze me," Ben agreed. "They are so much stronger than humans can ever dream of being."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

23 January 2010

Calliope balanced Emeline on one hip as she handed out water bottles to the massive line of people that slowly filtered through. Emeline's head rested on her shoulder, one hand holding a wad of Calliope's shirt to stay steady as Calliope moved and the other up by her face with her thumb stuck in her mouth. Big brown eyes watched everyone that passed, but she gave no reaction to the various states of distress that marred almost everyone.

"I have to go get more water, Emeline. Can I put you down for a minute?" Brushing the crinkly brown hair away from the little girl's face and Calliope pressed a kiss to her forehead when she nodded slowly. "I'll be right back. Promise."

Setting the little girl down, she hurried over to the mountains of twenty-four packs of water bottles. Heaving water off the top of the stacks, she thought about how much faster this would go in Eli or Isaac were here and a trip could bring over more than one twenty-four pack at a time. She repeated the trip until she had accumulated a small mound by the tables. As soon as Emeline realized she wasn't walking back to the water, her arms went up into the air and Calliope bent down to pick her up.

"That wasn't so bad, was it, Eme?"

Emeline shook her head and opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind and stuck her thumb in instead. Calliope smiled and hugged her before taking the box cutter out of her pocket and slicing through the plastic encasing the water bottles.

"Mesi! Mesi!" One woman grasped Calliopes hand, thanking her with tears in her eyes.

"Merite," Calliope smiled at her, fumbling a little over the Creole she was still trying to get the hang of. She handed her a few bottles of water, telling her to drink. "Bwe, souple, bwe. Eske ou gen petit?"

"Wi," she nodded and held up her hand to indicate she had two children. Calliope gave her a few more bottles and watched as she left to go back to where she left her children sitting on stools made out of rubble.

"Mwen grangou," Emeline mumbled around her thumb as she tugged on Calliope's shirt.

"You're hungry?" Calliope asked in English and Emeline nodded. "How hungry? Big hungry or little hungry?"

Emeline thought for a minute before saying, "Middle hungry."

"Middle hungry, huh? I think we can get you something to eat, Eme. Do you want a sandwich?" Emeline nodded again. Calling to another worker that she'd be right back, she and Emeline made their way towards the tables with food. "Peanut butter and jelly? Is that okay."

"Like peanut butter." Emeline said seriously.

"I know you do," she smiled and kissed the little girls' cheek as they came up to the tables. "Bonswa! Emeline grangou. Nou ta vle manje."

"Bonswa, Calliope, Emeline," one of the older women smiled as she handed Calliope two plastic bags that each contained a sandwich, apple and pretzels.

"Mesi Boukou."

"Merite!"

"Come on, Eme. Let's find somewhere to sit down." Sitting down, Calliope tore Emeline's sandwich into more manageable pieces and put the pieces back in the bag so they wouldn't get dirty before Emeline got to eat them. Emeline chattered while they ate and Calliope smiled and listened, thankful that Emeline, like most of the children here, spoke fluent English. It was the adults she had problems with. Most adults only spoke Creole or French, neither of which Calliope spoke with any fluidity. She could manage brief, broken Creole thanks to the constant exposure, but French still hovered far out of her reach.

"Whoa, cowgirl. Don't choke on your pretzels," Calliope grinned as she teased about half of the fistful of pretzels Emeline was trying to ram into her mouth from her pudgy little fingers. Emeline smiled a big toothy smile and closed her fingers around the new amount. "Smaller bites, cutie pie.

"'Ummy," she shoved the pretzels into mouth and pushed herself up onto her feet. Emeline tottered haphazardly over the uneven ground and popped herself down into Calliope's lap. "More pretzels, peas."

"_Please_. More pretzels, please. Peas are food, Eme," Calliope laughed and handed the little girl a small handful of pretzels.

"Mesi," she said around a mouthful of pretzels.

"Merite," Calliope kissed the top of her head. "Mwen renmen'w."

"Mwen renmen'w," Emeline turned and planted a sloppy kiss on Calliope's lips. "Talk to Spencer?"

"You want to talk to Spencer again?" Emeline nodded and started sucking her thumb while she leaned against Calliope. "Alright. We'll see if we can make that happen. But, cutie pie, I think it's time for a nap."

Calliope settled the little girl on the uncomfortable mattress and smirked when Perses lied down next to her and put his head on his paws. Poor dog hadn't been getting his beauty sleep lately. Within a few minutes, both babies were sound asleep and Calliope snuck out as noiselessly as she could and went back to work.

"Hey, Grandpa."

"Hey, Peanut," Ben held his bloody hands away from her as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Healthy baby boy."

"Wonderful," Calliope smiled. "Now go wash your hands." Ben laughed, walked over to the spigot, and began rinsing blood and placenta off of his hands. "How's Chanté? Is she doing any better?"

"I'm honestly not sure. Some days she seems like she's going to pull through and others it doesn't look good," Ben sighed and looked over his shoulder at his granddaughter who pursed her lips and frowned. She dropped her head into her hands and massaged her temples. "I know, Peanut."

"What's going happen to Emeline if Chanté doesn't make it?" Calliope asked even though she knew Ben had no answer to give her. "She's only three, Grandpa. Two. She's two. She's not even three yet. She can't take care of herself. She needs someone to do that. She needs parents."

"You seem to know what you want to do," Ben said softly.

"I don't know, Grandpa. I don't know what to do. I just… I just… I don't know. There's no owners manual for this specific event. I have no clue what to do."

"I know, Peanut," he smiled wistfully and dried his hands. "I had it relatively easy when your parents died, Callie. I knew exactly what I had to do. There was no question about the path you and I would go down. You're standing in a much different place than I was. You need to think about this."

"Kote ou ye? Kote ou ye?!"

"Mwen isit!" Calliope called and ran towards the distressed cries. "I'm here, Emeline. Right here. There we go. I've got you."

Emeline was sobbing, completely terrified at having woken up alone, as Calliope hefted the little girl up into her arms and rocked her back and forth, quietly whispering in her ear and pressing kisses into her hair.

"It's okay, Eme. I've got you. You're okay. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry, Eme, I'm sorry." Eventually, Calliope held a semi-calm, sniffling little girl and she used her sleeve to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a napkin and held it to Emeline's nose. "Blow. There. That's better, isn't it? You can breathe now."

Emeline sniffed pitifully and buried her face in Calliope's sweater. Continuing to sway side-to-side, Calliope ran a hand over her back and started singing _The Girl From Ipanema_ in her ear.

"Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes a-walking and when she passes, each one she passes, goes 'ahhh.' When she walks, she's like a samba that swings so cool and sways so gentle that when she passes, each one she passes go 'ahhh.' Oooh, but he watches so sadly, How can he tell her he love her? Yes, he would give his heart gladly, but each day, when she walks to the sea, she looks straight ahead, not at he. Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes a-walking and when she passes, he smiles – but she doesn't see… She just doesn't see… No, she doesn't see…"

"Interesting lullaby choice," Ben teased, but the song haded the desired effect and Emeline quieted to listen to the song, her thumb ever stuck in her mouth and the other hand playing with the gold necklace around Calliope's neck.

"Well, Eme, you slept for a good forty-five minutes," Calliope kissed the little girls' forehead and wiped away a few stray tears. "You can come with me or stay here."

"Stay with you," Emeline nodded and snuggled closer to her.

"Okay. You, me and the puppy. Let's go, Eme. We'll be back, Grandpa. I've got my phone. Say bye to Grandpa."

"Orevwa," she called over Calliope's shoulder and waved, giving Ben one of her sweet toothy smiles.

It was dusk before Calliope, Emeline and Perses entered the tent set up as their makeshift home. Ben was still with the injured and she could hear his familiar voice wafting over everything. Her movements were sluggish with fatigue as she turned on her computer and plugged in her wireless router. She got Emeline into a nightgown that was really one of her CMU t-shirts as the computer connected and iChat popped up.

"There's Spencer. Do you want to go click the button? Do you remember? Go on." Smiling, she watched Emeline click a few times until a video chat with Spencer came up and she squealed in delight.

"_Hi Emeline," Spencer smiled and waved at her. _

"Hi!"

"Hey, String Bean."

"_Hi, Sweetheart," Spencer's eyes softened when he saw her. "You look exhausted."_

"I'm all right," She smiled and waved Emeline over to her. "Tired, but all right. I miss you. How are you?"

"_Decent. Got back from Wyoming a few hours ago."_

"Good or bad?"

"_Mixture. Later," Spencer glanced pointedly at Emeline, knowing Calliope would understand what he was saying without words. "What did you two do today?"_

Calliope undid the braids containing Emeline's crinkly brown hair and started brushing out the mats as the little girl launched into an animated retelling of their day. Spencer laughed at the right moments and stayed solemn when he should and Calliope smiled watching them. The first few times Spencer had talked to Emeline, he had been awkward and unsure of himself, but Emeline barely noticed and blazed on, innocently unaware of the mans ineptness. Thanks to Emeline, Spencer had gotten the hang of the child relatively quickly and now the two barely needed her there and she sat quietly, happily, and listened while brushing Emeline's hair.

"What's wrong, Mr. Magician? You've seem a little down tonight," Calliope asked gently as she started re-braiding the girl's hair.

"_It's nothing, Calliope. I'm fine." Spencer said and pushed a smile onto his face._

"Don't insult me. I may only posses a fraction of the intelligence you do, but I'm not stupid. I know when you're fine and when you're not."

"_It's stupid," Spencer told her._

"If it's upsetting you, it's not stupid."

"_It's just something Emily said on the plane back. It's nothing."_

"If it were nothing, you wouldn't still be thinking about it. What happened? What'd she say?"

"_She was playing with this star puzzle and said it was impossible. I figured it out while she was telling me the story behind the puzzle. When I gave it back to her, she stared at me and said, 'There's a lot to hate about you, Dr. Reid'. Then Rossi, Morgan and García all chimed in with their two cents."_

"Oh, Spencer, you know they didn't really mean that," Calliope said, her eyes sad as her hands stilled over the hair in her hands and Emeline stuck her thumb back into her mouth, sucking contentedly and not really understanding.

"_I know she didn't mean it. It just stung. I've spent so much time having people hate me and say cruel things and actually meaning it. I guess it just brought back bad memories."_

"I'm sorry, String Bean." She resumed braiding the hair into two French braids. "They love you. You're part of their family, Spencer. Teasing… it's what families do. Unfortunately, our families are also the ones who can hurt us the worst, because they know us the best. None of them meant to hurt you any more than my cousins mean to hurt me when they tease me about being flighty."

_"I know," he nodded and watched, smiling a little as Emeline started to nod off and Calliope quickly tied the end of the second braid off and gathered the little girl into her lap. "How's C-H-A-N-T-É?"_

"Grandpa says it's hard to tell without regular hospital equipment. She's still bleeding internally off-and-on and he and the rest of the doctors are doing their best to drain the blood where they can, but, at the same time, she isn't the only person who needs their attention. It's been eleven days and people are still pouring in. People are still just being pulled out of rubble, Spencer. I don't know how to tell you how bad it is."

_ "Promise me you'll be careful and you won't do anything reckless."_

"I promise. I love you, String Bean."

_ "I love you too, Sweetheart."_

"Mwen renmen'w, Maman," Emeline mumbled around her thumb as she snuggled closer into Calliope's arms.

_ "What did she say?" Spencer asked._

"I love you, Mommy." Calliope breathed, as she looked at the little girl cuddled half asleep in her arms. "She said 'I love you, Mommy.'"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

28 January 2010

He needed caffeine. Or a defibrillator. Something – anything – to shock his system into some semblance of an alert state. What was it that Calliope joked she wanted? An intravenous Americano drip? As ridiculous as the idea of putting coffee directly into his bloodstream was, it sounded kind of nice. If he didn't think about the whole inevitable death side effect, that is.

Fifteen nights away from her was taking a toll. Reid hadn't realized how used to her presence he'd become. The hotel rooms on the two cases the team had handled since Calliope left had been all right, but the bed at home was too large and too empty without her and Perses. He wasn't sleeping soundly.

"Jeeze, Morgan. What the hell?" Reid jumped in his chair and knocked over the stack of files he'd been reaching for.

"You have been some kind of jumpy lately, kid. What's up?" Morgan crossed his arms and leaned against Reid's desk, whatever he'd originally come over to talk about forgotten.

"Nothing. You just startled me," he snapped as he tried to clean up the papers now strewn across his desk.

"Okay, hostile much?" Morgan asked raising his eyebrow.

"Morgan…"

"Come talk to me."

"Morgan…"

"In my office. Get up, kid."

Reid rolled his eyes, stood up and followed, knowing Morgan wouldn't leave him alone unless he did. Once inside the office with the door closed, Morgan stared at him, expectantly, but Reid made no move to initiate the conversation.

"What's going on with you?"

"Nothing's going on with me. Why do you always treat me like a kid, Morgan? Seriously? I'm twenty-eight years old. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don't need big brother checking in every five seconds to make sure I'm still breathing." Reid shoved his hands in his pockets in annoyance and scowled. He was overreacting and he knew it.

"You're right." Reid looked up in surprise at Morgan's statement. "I'm sorry. It's your life. If you wanted me in something you'd ask."

Sighing, Reid's shoulders slouched forward and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "I'm sorry. It's been a rough couple of weeks."

"I'm here if you want to talk. You know that. If you don't want –"

"She's been gone for sixteen days."

"Gone? Gone where? Did something happen? Are you two okay?"

"Calliope and I are fine. She and Dr. Sellers are in Haiti. They went the thirteenth – the day after the earthquake."

"Why didn't you say anything, Reid? Why is she over there? It's dangerous over there. Cal shouldn't be there."

"Have you ever tried telling Calliope 'no' once she's set her mind to something? It has about the same rate of effectiveness as telling a parakeet to turn into a bottlenose dolphin," Reid laughed hollowly.

Morgan burst out laughing at the analogy and leaned heavily against the wall for support. "Sorry," he wheezed, "I got this mental image of Toothpick doing the Chicken Dance in a parakeet costume trying to fly."

Reid chuckled at the idea as Morgan regained control of himself. "Why didn't you say anything, Reid? This is a pretty big… thing. I'm not quite sure what to call this."

"Event?"

"That'll work."

"There's so much uncertainty. I'm worried about her and Ben and Eme and Perses. Buildings are still falling over and crushing people, people are still dying… I'm worried about them. Hotch knows because of Jack and I asked him not to say anything to the rest of you. If I told you and the team, you'd all be as worried as I am and I wouldn't be able to have a chance at compartmentalizing while I'm at work. At home, there's no distraction. Here, there is, but if I brought the worry here with the same intensity I feel it at home, I wouldn't be able to focus. García would be freaking out every five minutes and I don't think I can handle that without snapping."

"Okay, I understand not telling Penelope," Morgan agreed. "But you could have told me. We've all been thinking the worst."

"Who's 'we'?"

"J.J. talked to me. I don't know what the rest of them think."

"I guess I should go talk to J.J." Reid sighed and started to turn to the door.

"Wait a sec."

"What?"

"Reid, who's Eme?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

2 February, 2010

Calliope curled onto her side and snuggled the little girl close, trying to shield her from the screaming coming from the improvised hospital. Emeline was crying and Calliope felt helpless. If she sung any more, the dogs would start protesting her terrible voice, starting with the one curled into a ball a foot away while Emeline squeezed his tail.

Dog!

With a sudden idea, Calliope sat up in bed and reached over to grab her MacBook. Startled, Emeline stopped crying and let go of Perses' tail to watch Calliope turn on the computer.

"Maman?"

"Just a second, Eme."

"Talking to Spencer?"

"No. We're going to watch a movie."

"No TV."

"We're going to watch it on the computer, sweetie." Calliope brought put the computer down where they could see it from the mattress and slipped the Bose headphones over Emeline's ears. She clicked a sequence of keys and the beginning of _Lady and the Tramp_ started playing. By the time Ben entered the tent hours later, the two were sound asleep. Leaning down, he removed the headphones from Emeline's ears and turned off the computer before collapsing onto his own mattress a few feet away.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

9 February, 2010

Spencer leaned back against the chair and looked at the pictures of Captain Paul Collins. He'd been killed in a church. He had a wife, Meg, and a daughter, Sophia. There'd been two victims before Captain Collins, but neither had been killed in a church. So, what was the connection between a victim as a church, an Italian restaurant and a laundromat?

Closing his eyes briefly, he leaned back and listened to Rossi and the sound of the jets engines. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. But they were flying to Rhode Island and there would be no time for him to sleep until they caught this monster and went back to Virginia.

He opened his eyes again and slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small, folded slip of computer paper. Spencer unfolded it under the table and looked down at the picture for a second, smiling inwardly at Calliope's wide smile and the brown blur of Emeline's wave that obscured part of the toddlers' face. The child hadn't quite understood the picture verses video chat explanation, but the blur just made him smile.

Last night, he and Calliope had talked on the phone for a long time after Emeline had fallen asleep. Spencer knew what Calliope wanted.

"_Sweetheart, listen to me for a second. I love you. You know that. I'm completely invested in this, in us. All the way. If this is what you want, then I'm in. There's no question."_

"_Spencer, are you sure? This is a big change. Maybe you should –"_

"_Calliope, I knew the minute she said 'Mwen renmen'w, Maman' – the second she said 'I love you, Mommy' – your heart was made up. I have thought about this. It's what you want; it's what I want."_

"_You want this?"_

Folding the picture again, Spencer slipped it back into his pocket and looked back at the picture of Captain Collins. The other picture was far more pleasant.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

14 February, 2010

Emeline held onto Calliope's hand and skipped beside her, singing some simple Creole rhyme Calliope couldn't understand. She was about to ask what she was singing when she stopped in her tracks, jerking the little girl with her abrupt halt. Her free hand flew to her mouth and her eyes watered. Letting go of Emeline's hand, she ran up the dirt road, crying as she went.

Spencer swept her up in his arms as she ran to him and kissed her hard, holding her to him tightly. She wrapped her legs around his waist and snaked her arms around his neck, kissing him with abandon. His bag had dropped next to his feet and neither of them paid attention to the onlookers, completely caught up in each other.

"You're here," Calliope whispered, wiping tears from her cheeks, still completely in shock. "You didn't tell me you were coming. I can't believe you're here. How did you get –"

"Maman! Tann, Maman!" Emeline pouted as she cried out for Calliope to wait. Spencer smiled and put Calliope down just as the little girl came running up in an awkward toddler shuffle. Kneeling down, she picked up the little girl and kissed her forehead apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Eme. I shouldn't have done that."

"Bad, Maman," she scolded before turning to look at Spencer. Almost instantly, recognition flashed across Emeline's face and she launched herself out of Calliope's arms towards him. "Poppy!"

"Poppy?" He mouthed in confusion over the girls' head as he caught her and shifted her in his arms to hold her more securely.

"'Poppy' means 'Daddy' in Creole," Calliope explained quietly and watched as his expression changed from confusion to something akin to overwhelming awe. Emeline had her arms latched around his neck and holding on tightly. She wasn't used to being up this high.

"Hi, Emeline," Spencer smiled at the little girl.

"Hi," she whispered, still staring wide-eyed at the ground that was now so far away. Spencer tentatively kissed the top of her head and smiled when she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You took a long time coming."

"I'm sorry, Eme," he said seriously as Calliope bent down to pick up his bag. "I'm here now though."

"What are you doing here?" Calliope asked while he followed her lead back towards where they had been walking before she saw him.

"I missed you. When we got back from Rhode Island, I asked Hotch for a few days off. Besides, I had to meet Princess Emeline."

"I'm not a princess, Poppy," she giggled.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! I don't have a crown. Princesses have crowns."

"Cinderella didn't have a crown at first and she's still a princess," Spencer pointed out. "Sleeping Beauty had to hide her crown for a long time, but she was still a princess."

Emeline frowned, thinking hard, and Calliope smiled, taking Spencer's hand and threading her fingers through his. "How do I know if I'm a princess, then?"

Spencer stopped and motioned for Calliope to give him his bag. Putting Emeline down, he reached into his bag and pulled out six identical pieces of wood that had been painted a shimmering metallic gold Calliope recognized instantly as a special paint she had Master Moretti send her from Italy. Smiling, she knew what her magician had done.

"Well, come here and I'll tell you," Spencer sat down on a piece of rubble and waited until Emeline had climbed into his lap and Calliope had sat down next to him. "Once, a long, long time ago, there was a prince who was completely in love with the most beautiful princess. She lived far away in her kingdom and many knights and princes tried to win her heart. The prince knew he'd have to do something really special to show her how much he loved her. So he climbed up to the tallest tower in his kingdom and caught a falling star for his princess. But the prince was so excited when he caught the star that he accidently dropped it and the star shattered into all these pieces."

Emeline ran a finger over one of the wooden pieces Spencer showed her and quickly shoved her thumb in her mouth and looked back at him expectantly.

"The prince knew that his princess wouldn't be impressed with a broken star, so he worked and worked until he managed to put the star back together." He began putting the puzzle back together with exaggeratedly slow movements so the little girl could watch as the wood began to take shape. She gasped when a star sat in Spencer's palm and he smiled, kissing the top of her head. "After he managed to put the star back together, he took it to his princess to prove he'd love her forever. The princess saw her star and fell in love with him."

"Did they live happily ever after?"

"Yes, they lived happily ever after, Princess Emeline. And now, every princess wants someone to love her enough to put together a broken star for her. But only real princesses can have stars. If someone tries to give a fake princess a broken star they've put together for her, it breaks instantly. That's the real test. If you can hold a broken star that was put together just for you, you're a real princess. If you can't, you're not."

"If I can hold the star, I'm a princess?" Emeline asked around her thumb.

"Exactly. You want to see if I'm right and you're a princess?" Emeline nodded violently and Spencer laughed. "Okay. Hold out your hands. Like Maman has hers. Alright, here we go."

Emeline yelled happily when the star stayed intact when Spencer placed it in her hands. Calliope stared, amazed, because Emeline's hands were far from still and she and Jill had played with these rhombic stars before - a sneeze could cause them to fall apart again. She looked at Spencer, who caught her eye and winked, showing her the tiny tube of superglue hidden in his palm before slipping it into his pocket before Emeline could notice. Blinking tears away, she wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. She didn't deserve him; there was no way in the world she deserved this man, but he was here and he was hers.

"I'm a princess! Poppy, I'm a princess!"

"I told you," Spencer said simply.

"Poppy's almost always right," Calliope found her voice again.

"Almost?" Spencer teased.

"Well, sometimes I'm right. Even when I'm wrong, I'm right."

"Oh, yes. My survival code, I almost forgot," Spencer leaned over and kissed her. "So, I think Princess Emeline is missing something."

"What?" Emeline clutched her star in her hands and looked up at him as he pulled a pale yellow cloth bag out of his other pocket, one Calliope knew came from James Avery. Spencer traded her the bag for the star and she pulled out a small, silver necklace. "A crown!"

"Tiara," Calliope corrected absently as Emeline fingered the tiara pendant hanging off the child-sized chain. Spencer traded her back the star for the necklace and fixed it around her neck.

"Now I'm like Maman! I have a necklace from Poppy too," Emeline crowed happily as she kissed Spencer's check and threw her arms around his neck is a suffocating hug.

"Just like Maman," he smiled down at her when he managed to escape her chokehold. "Your Valentine's Day present is at home, Calliope. I'll have to give it to you later."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

16 February, 2010

"She's doing much better," Ben told them as they stood watching Emeline show her grandmother her new necklace and star. "A few more weeks and Chanté will be good as new."

Calliope's hand tightened around Spencer's and he pulled her close. She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him and they traded a glance that spoke volumes to each other.

"Look! Poppy says I'm a princess 'cause I can hold my star," Emeline smiled and held out her star proudly. Chanté smiled and spoke to the little girl in quick Creole that Calliope couldn't understand. The little girl chattered with her grandmother until she started blinking repeatedly in a sign Calliope had come to know meant it was time for a nap. Once Emeline was settled next to Perses in the tent and had fallen asleep, Spencer and Calliope sat down with Chanté and a translator.

"You're her new mother and father," Chanté said almost questioningly as she looked at the two of them.

"We didn't tell her to call us that. She just started by herself," Calliope explained.

"But you don't mind."

"No. We don't. We were thinking about adopting her."

"I'm her grandmother."

"We know," Spencer nodded. "That why we wanted to talk to you."

The three talked until Emeline woke up and came looking for them, still clutching her star. Smiling down at her, Calliope picked the little girl up and settled her down in her lap.

"Eme, we have something to talk to you about." Emeline looked at her and waited, patiently sucking on her thumb. "Poppy and I want to know if you want to come live with us in Virginia."

"Gogo?"

"No, Princess Eme," Spencer shook his head. "Your grandma doesn't want to leave Haiti. She would stay here."

"Maman and Poppy stay here."

"Emeline, Poppy and I can't stay here forever. We have to go home to Virginia." Calliope explained as she held the little girl close. "It's up to you, Eme. You can stay here with your grandma or you can come with Poppy and I to Virginia. No matter what you want, grandma, Poppy and I will love you."

* * *

**A/N:**

**GASP!!! Cliffie?! What is this madness? What's gonna happen? I don't know! Well, okay. I do. But you don't.**

**Anyways. Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! Please, tell me what you think, good or bad! :)**

**Love, Thalia**


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_What greater thing is there for two human souls than to feel that they are joined for life? To strengthen each other, to be at one with each other in silent, unspeakable moments." – George Eliot_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

5 March, 2010

Rossi wrote a few notes on the file in front of him and picked up his mug of coffee with his left hand. Frowning, he looked into the mug and saw only the dregs left at the bottom. He pulled off his reading glasses and wiped a hand over his eyes before sparing the clock sitting at the corner of his desk a glance. It was almost time to head home. A half an hour longer and he'd be driving through the mess outside back to Washington where Mugsy waited for him.

But he'd need another cup of coffee if he were going to make it through the last half hour of work and then drive home through the rain pouring so hard he couldn't see five feet out his window. Lightening lit up the black sky, followed instantaneously by a crack of thunder that shook the building. Yes, he definitely needed some more coffee.

Pushing himself up, Rossi grabbed his navy blue mug and walked out of his office, down the stairs and through the bullpen towards the coffeepot that was living the last few months of its life. When he passed Reid's empty desk, he paused for a second and the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. Two years ago, a stranger passing this desk would never have known who used it if not for the FBI nameplate reading "SPENCER REID."

Now, everyone knew to whom the desk belonged; a person would have to possess unparalleled stupidity still wonder. A few framed pictures had found a home on Reid's desk – one of Reid and Calliope at the Norfolk Zoo, one of all of them plus Will and Kevin at Calliope's birthday party, and a second one of Reid and Calliope, but, in this picture, a small toddler sat in Reid's lap and beaming up at the two adults smiling down at her. The last picture was one of just Reid and the little girl. Reid held her snuggly and she had her head resting on his shoulder, her thumb stuck in her mouth, her eyes closed, and Reid pressed a kiss against her forehead.

Rossi smiled at the two child's drawings that had been taped to the clear partition that separated Reid's desk from Prentiss'. Life was drastically different for Dr. Reid from when Rossi first met the young genius. The first time he'd seen Reid, the man had been wearing a Frankenstein mask and had a plastic noose around his neck. The man he met nearly three years ago had been awkward and unsure of himself, always sticking to facts, statistics and academia, was uncomfortable anywhere else. He had no real connections in his life besides his mother and the members of this team. Now, he had more connections than he knew what to do with – he lived with his girlfriend, he had a screwy dog, Calliope's family, with the exception of Brenda, treated him as one of their own, and he had a beautiful little girl who had just turned three that Tuesday.

"I didn't realize my desk was all that interesting," Reid joked when he came up behind Rossi.

"Hmmm? Oh, I was just thinking. How's Emeline doing?"

"She's adjusting. It's a lot of change for a toddler, but she's adjusting as well as can be expected. Better than we are. She's rarely without a smile. If I could just get her to stop sucking her thumb as often as she smiles."

"That's good, that's good."

"I'm of the same opinion," Reid nodded and took a sip of his own coffee.

"I'd be concerned if you weren't," Rossi laughed. "Why do you want her to stop sucking her thumb?"

"Paronychia, callouses, lead ingestion, pinworms, self-consciousness… If they keep sucking their thumb when they start loosing their baby teeth, it can cause their permanent teeth to become misaligned by pushing their upper front teeth forward and the lower front teeth backwards."

"Paronychia?"

"An infection around the thumbnail. It happens if the cuticles get damaged and a bacterium gets into the crease between the skin and the thumbnail and under the thumbnail. It's commonly referred to as 'bar rot' because the citric acid in limes that bartenders use eats away at the cuticles, but thumb sucking can cause it too."

Rossi nodded and looked back at the photograph of Reid and Emeline. "How's the coffee maker?"

"Barely holding on."

"What do you think the odds of them replacing it are?"

"Probably about the same as the odds of them actually paying us what we deserve," Reid rolled his eyes.

"Wonderful," Rossi looked down at his mug and sighed. "I hope it lasts a little longer, then."

"We'll probably have to pool together and buy our own before they get around to getting us another one."

"Don't joke," Prentiss groaned as she closed the file she was working on.

"Who's joking?" Reid looked over at her.

"It is five o'clock somewhere and lucky for us here is one of those 'somewheres,'" García said in a singsong voice as she sashayed through the bullpen swinging her purse and pulling on a vibrant teal jacket.

"Hey there, Red," Prentiss smiled. "Where are you off to?"

"It's Friday night and I have a hot date. Ah-too-ta-loo!"

"Get it, García!" Prentiss called after her and Reid and Rossi laughed.

"I have to go too," Reid said, leaning down and grabbed his tan messenger bag, shoving a few things in before flipping the flap over to close it. He slipped his arms into his wool coat. "I have to get home."

"What's your rush?"

"I have a little girl waiting for me."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The rain pelted down on the car and the windshield wipers swished furiously as Spencer slowly drove up Dahlia Road, winding through the trees and crunching soaked gravel beneath the tires on his beat up Volvo. He could barely see past the end of the hood, much less any helpful distance. The rain rendered his brights and the floodlights on either side of the road completely useless. It took him a little over twice the normal amount of time to pull into the garage after he first turned off of Lee Drive and, as soon as he pulled the key out of the ignition, he was out of the car and through the garage door into the house.

"I'm home," he called, dropping the leather messenger bag onto the tile floor.

"Poppy's home, Eme!"

"Poppy!"

Spencer smiled at Emeline's high-pitched squeal of delight and he kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his jacket. "Where are you?"

"We're in the living room, String Bean."

"Hurry up, Poppy!"

"Hold your horses, Princess Emeline. I'm coming," Spencer nearly tripped over Perses when the dog ran up and bounced on his hind legs in greeting. He leaned down and quickly gave Perses a few pats before straightening up and hurrying towards the living room. Perses made it to the couch before Spencer did and he had to pick up the excited dog to be able to sit down next to Calliope and give her a quick kiss. "Hey Sweetheart. Hey Princess. Did you have a good day?"

Spencer smiled at the computer screen and waved at Emeline, who waved back with a happy smile on her face. Calliope leaned against him and he wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her temple. "I love you," he whispered in her ear as Emeline started telling him about she and Chanté had done that day.

"And then I played with Yva."

"What did you two play?" Spencer prompted.

"We played princess."

"Did you let Yva be the princess for a little while?"

"Yes. But, Poppy, I'm a better princess than Yva," Emeline told him seriously.

"I know you are. But you still have to share," Spencer had to bit back his laughter as he responded to Emeline's declaration.

"I shared my tricycle," she nodded earnestly.

"Really?" Calliope smiled, "Wow. That's awesome. You are such a good girl, Eme. I'm so proud of you."

"Mesi, Maman," Emeline beamed at Calliope's praise and stuck her thumb in her mouth. "I miss you."

"We miss you too, Princess," Spencer told her and tightened his hold of Calliope's waist when he felt her shoulders shake a little.

"Very much," Calliope agreed with him, her voice wavering a little and her eyes blinking rapidly to keep her tears from falling.

"Poppy? What's wrong with Maman?"

"Maman just really, really misses you, Princess Emeline. We both do. She'll be all right," Spencer smiled sadly at the little girl and rubbed a hand over Calliope's back, silently willing her to keep her composure until the video chat was over. "How are you liking your big girl bed?"

"It's big."

"It is bigger than your crib," he conceded, "but do you like it?"

"Yes. It's pink. I like my big girl bed because I'm a big girl."

"Yes, you are," Calliope laughed. "Have you fallen out of it again?"

"No!" Emeline shook her head. "I stayed in the bed."

"That's good. We don't want you to fall out again. One time's enough, isn't it?"

"I don't want to fall out again, Maman. That was scary."

"I bet it was. Does your grandma like your new house?"

"She says Pétionville is where the rich people live," Emeline stumbled a little over the pronunciation of her new home. "Everything's so pretty. There's no cracks in the walls like at the 'partment Papa had. No buggies. I didn't like the buggies in Papa's 'partment."

"I don't like buggies either. I always yell for Poppy to come get them," Calliope smiled.

"Poppy's a good buggie smusher," Emeline smiled brightly. "He made the big spider go splat! No more spider! Poppy, why didn't Pétionville fall down like Port-au-Prince?"

"Pétionville is on a mountain and the mountain protected Pétionville. The mountain absorbed most of the shock from the earthquake because the energy waves had to travel through a lot more land to get to the surface. Does that make sense, Princess Emeline?"

"No."

"I'll explain it to you again when you're older, Princess. The concept is a little over your head right now," Spencer laughed at the quizzical look on Emeline's face.

"Are we rich now, Poppy?"

"What?"

"Gogo says Pétionville is for rich people. Are we rich now, Poppy?" Calliope laughed when Spencer fumbled for words, unsure of how to respond to Emeline's question.

"Yes, Eme. Poppy and I have a lot of money, so we made sure you and your grandma and your new nanny lived in Pétionville where it's safe, in a house that isn't going to fall down. Port-au-Prince isn't safe anymore, so we moved you to where it is safe."

"The man next door used to be a centaur."

"A centaur?" Spencer and Calliope shared a baffled expression.

"Yup. He made rules with the other centaurs."

"Senator!" Calliope cried in triumph when she realized what Emeline was trying to say.

"Yeah! Centaur."

"Senator, Princess Emeline. A centaur is a half-horse, half-man creature like in your princess books."

"Oh."

"Okay, Emeline. It's about bedtime for you. Your grandma's gonna come get you in a few seco – there she is! I love you, Eme."

"I love you too, Maman. I love you, Poppy."

"Love you too, Princess. Talk to you tomorrow."

"Bye!" Emeline was still waving when the video feed cut out and the window disappeared. As soon as the Spencer logged them out of iChat, all light within Calliope flickered out and she deflated. Her face crumpled and her body wracked with sobs as Spencer quickly gathered her into his arms and hugged her close.

"I know, Sweetheart," her murmured into her hair and closed his eyes. "I know. I miss her too. Every minute of every day."

And he did know. Getting on the plane without Emeline had been the hardest thing he had ever done – harder, somehow, even than admitting his mother to the sanitarium ten years ago. Spencer always thought that would be the worst day of his life; he never imagined he could feel worse than he had that afternoon, but leaving Emeline in Haiti surpassed that day by more than he knew how to measure. He hadn't just left his Princess Emeline – he had left part of himself. Spencer never imagined one smiley little girl could so easily worm her way into his heart with one cry of 'Poppy!' and leave such a gapping hole in her absence.

Spencer buried his face in Calliope's hair and hugged the weeping woman tighter against him as his own grief spilled over and his tears fell into soft curls. While his sobs were quiet, his tears and shaking the only indication he cried at all, Calliope's sobs were gasping and raw, soul-wrenching, more akin to the cries of a wounded animal than any human. Calliope leaned into his embrace and let his body support her weight, her fingers digging into his arm as she wept into Spencer's sweater.

Neither moved. Even after both had stilled and their tears had stopped, they stayed clinging to each other, Spencer's face hidden in red curls and Calliope's burrowed into the coarse wool encasing Spencer's arm. The phone rang, once, twice, three times, but neither made any movement to get up and answer the offending machine as all three calls went to the answering machine. Perses, with the innate way dogs _knew_, shoved the front of his body between his owners and simply lay there in an awkward position making soft whining noises, almost as if he too grieved the absence of the little girl who yanked and twisted his tail and squeezed his neck until he yelped in pained protest until she let go, waited a moment, and started again.

The torrential downpour battered away at the roof and the windows, the noise of the waters' impact echoing throughout the silent house. Calliope sighed slightly at the irony of how well the storm mirrored how she felt inside. She had always laughed at the movie scenes where the protagonist stands in the middle of the road watching the car he had tried to stop from leaving amble away when, as if out of no where, the sky opens and he's left standing, soaking, in the rain. She knew all about using weather to create a mood or tone in the arts – she'd had a semester long class on the topic at Washington and Lee that she had very much enjoyed, but since that class seeing the effect used in movies just made her giggle. There was no laughing now, only closing her eyes and sighing, leaning closer into the arms of the man who knew her better than anyone else, better even than Jill or her grandpa, and still loved her, still wanted to hold her when things were bad, still wanted to laugh with her when things were good. He knew all of her, the good and the bad, and he still wanted to be with her, still loved her and still wanted her to love him.

Calliope wasn't sure how much time had passed since they had said goodnight to Emeline, but she honestly didn't care. Their house could have spontaneously imploded and she probably wouldn't have noticed the roof collapsing on her head or the noise of shattering glass. All she really noticed was the horrible pain in her chest and the emptiness of her arms that ached to cuddle her sweet little girl whom she had held and hugged scant weeks ago. Calliope loved Jack like she'd loved him all his life, but the love she had for Jack was different from the love she had for Emeline. She didn't have the words to describe how it was different, it just was. If she did have the words, she didn't know how to use them.

Curling herself into a smaller ball, she took the smallest amount of comfort in the way Spencer's arms instinctively tightened around her and held her closer, which prompted a squeal from the dog when he was squeezed between them. Calliope looked down as Perses toppled backwards when he got himself free and couldn't help the smile that spread across her face and the laughter that spilled out at seeing her bumbling sidekick roll across the couch. She felt Spencer start to laugh before she heard him and Perses righted himself before looked from one to the other with his head cocked to the side, wondering what his pets found so amusing.

"I think that's the first time I've laughed since coming home," Calliope sighed as she leaned against him and closed her eyes again, her lips still curved in a smile.

"You laugh when you're talking to Emeline," he kissed her temple.

"I feel empty when I'm not talking to her," she admitted.

"I know. I feel it too."

"We should have brought her home."

"You mean we should have kidnapped her?"

"It's still too dangerous there. Chanté isn't well enough to take care of her properly. Eme needs a maman and a poppy who can love her and play with her and take care of her not a grandmother who can barely stand for more than ten minutes at a time."

"Sweetheart, as much as I agree with you, we have no legal claim to Emeline. We couldn't take her without Chanté's permission and she would only give it to us if Emeline said she wanted to leave Haiti and come to Virginia. If we'd taken her, I'd have to arrest myself. And then you. And then where would Eme be?"

"I don't like it when you're right," Calliope twisted a little and pressed a kiss to his throat, wedging her arms between his back and the couch to hug him.

"Right now, neither do I," Spencer nuzzled his nose against the soft skin behind her ear and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, flaring his nostrils a little when her hair tickled his nose. "I want her here too, Sweetheart. But I can't say I'm surprised that Eme wanted to stay with Chanté. So much has changed for her in so short a time that she's clinging to the last remaining bit of her former life, the last familiar thing left. She's scared, the only place she's ever known is a pile of rubble, her father's dead… of course she picked Chanté."

"I cry all the time, Spencer," she confessed, "at the stupidest things. Yesterday, I was at the Target – the one across ninety-five over on C.D.S. Parkway in that Central Park shopping center where –"

"I know the shopping center, Sweetheart."

"I was there to get some yoga pants that I liked, Target's the only place that has my brand, and I decided to pick up some other stuff we needed. I went down the isle with the peanut butter and I started bawling. Crazy lady on isle three crying over eight ounces of JIF chunky peanut butter! I finally got a hold of myself and then I passed this display of kids clothes and I saw this cute purple shirt that was just Eme's size and I started crying all over again! This poor bag boy who was just barely old enough to work there, barely looked older than thirteen, he bumped into me both times and he must have thought I was absolutely out of my mind."

Spencer's closed his eyes and hugged her tighter. "Oh, Sweetheart."

"I know. I'm such an idiot."

"You're not an idiot, Calliope. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you."

"Do you start randomly sobbing in the middle of a grocery superstore?"

"No, but I did cry the entire plane ride from Haiti to Washington," Spencer whispered into her hair and tried to shake the memory from his mind. "Leaving her… I could barely get on the plane knowing she wouldn't be coming home with you, Calliope."

"You were crying?"

"Do you honestly think I could have left her there and not be upset?"

"No – I don't… that's not what I meant," Calliope pulled back to look up at him. "I know you love her."

"Almost as much as you do," he kissed her. "I don't think anyone could possibly love that little girl as much as you love her."

"This afternoon while you were at work, I sat in her bedroom, I mean… the bedroom I had planned to set up for her… and I just cried for hours." Spencer enveloped her in his arms when she burrowed closer, her tears falling fresh, and he held her, wishing with everything in him that he could take away her pain, that he could make her world right again, and it killed him to know he could do absolutely nothing but make sure she knew he'd always hold her when she cried.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

6 March, 2010

"How are you two doing?"

Spencer looked down at the grass and let out a sigh before looking back up. "It's been difficult. We both miss Emeline, but we're not shutting each other out, so that's a good sign. We talk to her every night. I called when I was on a case, so that confused her a little, but she understood after a few explanations. A lot of couples pull apart from each other, blame each other, when something along these lines happens. I've seen it happen so many times when the team takes child abduction cases. It's kind of strange; Emeline was never in the house, but we can both see her everywhere. Calliope… she's heartbroken. She's crying all the time."

"Women feel things differently than men," Ben said as they walked along the lawn. Spencer nodded his agreement as he watched guests picnic on the lawn, riding horses, flying kites. He had never been at Dahlia while it was operational and seeing it transformed from a home into a hotel, into a tourist attraction, astounded him. "Mothers are an entirely different breed of human. They are completely different from men, from other women. Their love is fiercely protective and all encompassing."

"At Haley's funeral, Hotch said that a mother's love is an 'unrivaled force of nature.' My mom, Diana, has always said that she can sense things, that mother's 'know,' that they're animals first and human second."

"All of those I know to be one hundred percent true," Ben smiled. "Callie will get through this. She's just learning the true heartbreak of being a mom, being a parent."

"And that is?"

"Her heart will never be in her body again. Her heart is running around outside her chest and it will for the rest of her life. She can't hold her little girl, she can't make sure she's safe, she can't kiss her at night, she can't sooth away nightmares or sing silly songs. She misses her little girl."

"I know. I miss her too. I'm constantly worried about her. I woke up a few nights ago in a complete panic over Emeline. I can't remember what it was about, I just woke up in a cold sweat."

"I've woken up in several of those over Callie. I think she's given me more agida than Sarah and Henry combined. And I'm older. It's a wonder she hasn't given me a heart attack," Ben stopped short when a young boy darted in front of them chasing something they couldn't see. "I know you didn't drive two and a half hours to talk about this."

"No," Spencer said slowly. "No, I didn't. I came to ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"Calliope and I have been together for a year and a half. We've been through a lot and I love her very, very much. I can't imagine life without her and I'd rather not try to. Even when things are difficult, like now with Eme, I know I want to be beside her. If I spend the rest of my life with her, it still wouldn't be enough time. I'm asking for your permission to ask Calliope to marry me."

"You love her?"

"More than anything," Spencer put his hands in his pockets and looked down, hunching his shoulders for a moment before straightening up and looking into Ben's clear blue eyes. The older man's gaze gave him the feeling of being x-rayed, like Ben could see straight through him. "I, uh, I never thought I'd ever been asking a father permission to marry his daughter – granddaughter. To be honest, I never thought I'd be in love with a woman and actually have her reciprocate. I thought I'd be a terminal bachelor and, to be honest, I was almost okay with it. But Calliope changed that; she's pretty much turned my entire life upside down and I like it much better this way. I know Brenda hates me, but I still want to marry Calliope."

"You'll take care of her?"

"For as long as she'll let me."

"You'll give me some grandchildren? Great-grandchildren. Not grandchildren, I have one of those and if you get Sarah pregnant so I have more grandchildren, Calliope would kill you." Spencer ashen face made Ben laugh and pat his back. "Relax, Spencer, relax. I'm only joking."

"Don't joke like that. Brenda might hear you and she really would kill me," he muttered, massaging his temples and wincing. "You have a sick sense of humor sometimes, you know that?"

"So I've been told," Ben smiled and looked over at him as he nodded. "Brenda's going to kill me, but yes. I would be proud to have you as my son-in-law… grandson-in-law, I suppose. I hope you're good at ducking."

"Getting better every day," Spencer smiled, "Her last weapon of choice was a can of tomato soup. Apparently, she didn't feel like taking off her shoes. I'm really glad I ducked that one in time."

"Are you sure you want to marry her?" Ben joked, running a hand over the back of his head. "One day you might not duck down far enough or move fast enough."

"I'll take my chances."

"Well then I guess there's something you need."

"Oh?"

"This." Ben fished a black velvet box out of his pocket and handed it to Spencer. Furrowing his brow, he looked down at the box and flipped it open, baulking at what he saw inside.

"I-I-I can't take this," he stuttered and attempted to hand the box back to Ben.

"Yes, you can."

"No, no I can't. This is worth more than my checking and savings account combined plus the portion of my wages that are garnished to Bennington from now until the day I retire. I couldn't pay for this if I –"

"I'm not asking you to pay for it, Spencer," Ben chuckled. "That's the Seller's Family ring. It's been in our family since seventeen thirty-two. I proposed to Michele with that ring. You should have it."

"It's Georgian, isn't it? Seven and a half carats." Spencer stared down at the ring. He'd never seen anything quite so… he wasn't quite sure how to describe the heart shaped diamond ring with a diamond-studded crown topping it and three diamonds on each side of the heart. It was beautiful, more than a little intimidating, but beautiful. "I can't take this."

"Why not?"

"It's a priceless family heirloom."

"Which is why you should have it."

"I can't take the ring you gave to your wife."

"Take it."

"I –"

"I played baseball in college, Spencer. Calliope's not the only one in the family with a good arm. She didn't get it all from her grandmother."

"I'll take your word for it," Spencer joked.

"So take the ring so I don't have to prove it," Ben smiled. "Trust me, Spencer, I want you to have it."

"If you're sure…" he looked down at the ring box again and bit the inside of his lip before snapping it shut and slipping it into his pocket. "I – Eh, excuse me."

Spencer pulled his cell phone out and looked down to see J.J.'s name on the LED screen. "Hello? What? Okay… I'm in Williamsburg. It'll take three hours for me to get to Quantico. Can you brief everyone else in the round room and then brief me on the plane? All right. I'll see you when I get there. Bye, J.J."

"Duty calls," Ben nodded as Spencer put the cell phone back.

"Unfortunately. There's a case in Mississippi. I'll have to call Calliope while I drive. She's not going to be thrilled, but it's only the second case I've been gone on since she came home from Haiti."

"Be safe," Ben patted his back as they turned around to return to the house.

"I always am. Your daughter – granddaughter! Your granddaughter would kill me if I weren't."

"She would and then I'd have to kill you for hurting her," he joked. "I'll see you later, Spencer."

"Goodbye, Ben." Spencer waved as he headed over to his car. He was driving up sixty-four west, about to exit onto two-ninety-five north towards Quantico, when he hit Calliope's speed dial and waited for her to pick up. "Sweetheart?"

_ "Hi, String Bean," Calliope smiled into the phone and stirred the boiling pot of pasta with the wooden spoon, frowning when she had to scrap the bottom to dislodge the noodles that had glued themselves to the bottom. _

"You sound happy," Spencer laughed. "I have some ba–"

"_So much for non-stick pots…"_

"What?"

_ "Oh, nothing, nothing. When are you coming home? I have something exciting to tell you. Did you and Derek have fun this afternoon?"_

"What? Uh, no. I mean, yes. I mean… I'm going to start this over. No, I'm not coming home and, yes, we had fun."

_ "You got a case," Calliope's smile disappeared and her hand stilled over the pot of pasta._

"We got a case. Sweetheart, I'm sorry. What did you want to tell me?"

_ "It's alright. I'll wait until you get home. It's not something I want to tell you over the phone," Calliope turned off the gas and dumped the pasta into sink._

"Is it important? I can stop home for a second if it is."

_ "No. It's not important. It can wait until after the case."_

"You sounded so happy. Now, you sound very unhappy," Spencer sighed and turned onto the exit for two-ninety-five north. "I'm sorry, Calliope. Are you sure you don't want me to come home so you can tell me?"

_ "No. It wouldn't be fair to drag Derek all the way down here. I'll tell you when you get home."_

"Alright," Spencer winced at Derek's name, reminding him of the well-intended lie he'd used to get to Williamsburg without Calliope knowing about it. "I love you, Sweetheart."

_ "I love you too, String Bean," Calliope grabbed a can of Mountain Dew from the subzero, tripped over Perses and fell flat on her face, the coke can and the iPhone scattering across the tile. Cursing, she rolled onto her back and pressed the side of her hand to her nose to blot the blood as she clambered for the phone._

"Calliope? Are you okay?"

_ "Yes, I'm fine." She said nasally, "Perses decided to play Pongo for a minute."_

"Pongo?"

_ "You know… __101 Dalmatians__? Pongo wrapped his leash around Roger and Anita's legs and they fell into the lake."_

"I'm sure I'll be watching it when I get home. Are you okay?"

_ "I think my shoulder's gonna be a bit bruised, but other than that I'll be fine as soon as my nose stops bleeding. You be safe, tell Fred to be safe too and not to do anything stupid. Call me when you get to the hotel. Wait! Where are you going?"_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

8 March, 2010

"Call our girl Friday," Rossi sighed as he closed a file. "We aren't getting anywhere. Why hasn't she called yet? She's usually the one calling us."

"You told her not to call us until we called her," Morgan reminded him as he hit the number seven on his speed dial. "I'm calling her. Hey, Gorgeous."

_ "Well, thank you, but I'd prefer you don't talk to my girlfriend that way, Morgan."_

"Lynch?" Morgan nearly dropped his phone in surprise and Reid, J.J. and Rossi doubled over in silent hysteria. "I-I, uh, where's Ba-Pen-García? Where's García?"

_ "I'm filling in for her."_

"Where is she? She was there twenty minutes ago," Morgan rested his head in his hand. Lynch would never like him, never trust him. And, right now, he couldn't really blame him.

_ "Penelope has a doctors appointment. What can I do for you?"_

"Is she okay? What's wrong with her?"

_ "She's fine. She, uh… she, uh…"_

"Spit it out, Lynch. Is Penelope okay?"

"What's wrong with García?" Rossi asked, nudging Morgan with his elbow.

"I don't know. I'm trying to find out. She didn't tell me she had a doctors appointment. Did she tell any of you?"

_ "She didn't tell you because it's none of your business if she has to go to the lady doctor," Lynch huffed angrily._

"You got García pregnant!" Morgan bellowed, standing up and knocking both his chair and the folding-table holding two bankers boxes full of files from the Monticello, Mississippi Police Department.

"What!" Reid, who had been balancing on the two back legs of the wooden chair, lost his stability and fell over backwards, cracking his head against the plank floor. J.J. spilt coffee down her front, ruining her crisp white blouse and burning herself slightly in the process. Rossi choked on the Danish he'd been chewing and he pounded on his breastbone until he dislodged the pastry and could breath again.

_ "Penelope isn't pregnant! I don't think… no… she would have told me! Wouldn't she?"_

"You don't know?"

_ "Is there something to know?" Lynch paced. "What are you talking about?"_

"What am _I_ talking about? What are _you_ talking about?"

_ "What did you want in the first place?"_

"We uh… we need Penel – er… we need you to run some names," Morgan messaged his temples, waving a hand at the three agents clamouring to know what the hell was going on and whether or not García was pregnant.

"Are García and Kevin having a baby?" J.J. pounced as soon as Morgan hung up the phone and dragged his hand over his face.

"No, I don't think so. Just a routine check up followed by a routine go-round between Lynch and I. When he calls back, someone else pick up the damn phone. He hates me."

"Do you blame him?" Rossi shook his head. "Your Hercules and he's the Easter Bunny. And you and Penelope flirt shamelessly. That'd be like Callie's friend Mitchell Craig coming onto Callie right in front of Spencer."

"Hey!" Reid protested as he righted himself and the chair. "Leave Calliope and I out of this. And I think I'm a little better than the Easter Bunny! Besides, Mitchell's married. You know, the real myth of Hercules is rather tragic. He was a liar and a cheat and a sneak just as much as he was a hero and he killed all of his children in a –"

"No one cares, Reid."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer tiptoed into the bedroom and closed the door behind him, glad that they had solved the case rather quickly and he could come home instead of spending another night in a damp hotel. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw Calliope curled up in bed with her back towards the door. She must have gotten too hot while she slept because the blankets were bunched around her knees and she'd tossed her t-shirt at the end of the bed, leaving everything from her sports bra to her pajama bottoms visible for him to see. And he liked when he saw.

Pulling off his tie and shrugging out of his green button-down shirt, he watched her sleep, thinking about how much he wanted to kiss her awake, touch her and be close to her in a way he hadn't since before the earthquake in Haiti. He smiled as he climbed onto the bed in his boxers and remembered the last time he'd kissed her awake in the middle of the night. She hadn't been opposed to it in the least and neither had he.

"Wake up, beautiful," he whispered in her ear and pressed a kiss to her spine, splaying his hand across her stomach.

"Don't touch me."

Startled, Spencer jerked back, the movement shaking the bed and waking Perses where he lay curled up on the comforter. Calliope's voice was quiet and heavy, but not angry. He reached back over and made to rest his hand on her waist, but she flinched away from his touch. Frowning, he rolled off the bed and walked to the other side, squatting beside her.

"Sweetheart?" When he saw her face, it took everything in him not to flinch. Her eyes were open and starting at him, but she showed no recognition he was next to her. Spencer brushed a lock of hair out of her face and searched her eyes. As much as he searched, he saw none of the spark, none of the laughter her bright hazel eyes usually held. If her chest weren't moving to show she still breathed, he'd think she were dead; only on corpses of victims had he ever seen eyes that stared into nothing this way. "Calliope, what's wrong? Please, Sweetheart. Please, talk to me."

"I just want to sleep."

"What happened?" Spencer took her hand in his and squeezed. "Let me in, Calliope. What happened? Did something happen to Ben or Brenda? It's Emeline okay? Is everyone all right? Please, Calliope, talk to me. You're scaring me."

"Everyone's fine."

"You're not going to talk to me, are you?"

"Tired. I want to sleep."

"Alright. Can I still sleep with you?" Calliope squeezed his hand slightly before pulling her hand from his. Frowning, Spencer kissed her forehead, his frown deepening when she flinched away from his touch. He wanted to know what had changed so drastically since Friday when she's cried in his arms to right now when she repealed any contact with him.

Slipping into bed again, he kept a sizable distance between them and watched her ribcage move as she breathed. She'd lost weight since the last time he'd look at her without a shirt on. He bit his lips closed and counted her ribs, counted each bump of her spine. Calliope had been extremely thin before, but this scared him. This was dangerous.

"I love you, Calliope. I wish you'd talk to me."

"Please, Spencer. Stop."

"Whatever it is, I'm not going anywhere. Whatever happened, whatever's wrong, we can –"

"Stop it! Spencer, please. I want to sleep."

He quieted and watched as she lay there, waiting until she fell sleep. Spencer had almost worried himself asleep when he felt her shift in her sleep, tossing around until she found him. He smiled a little when she tangled her limbs with his and settled down again, her cheek resting on his chest and her arm wrapped around his waist. Running his fingers through her hair, he listened to her even breathing and stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out what had happened.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Sorry I had to skip a week. I had to study for finals and pack up my apartment and be a responsible adult, which totally sucks, by the way. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it enough to forgive me for leaving you hanging for two weeks.**

**Pictures of the Seller's Family ring in photobucket! Enjoy!**

**I love you all, thanks for reading and, like always, tell me what you think - good or bad! **

**Love, Thalia**


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_God must be busy." – Clint Daniels and Michael P. Heeney_

o o o o

19 March, 2010

"Okay, buddy. Go brush your teeth," Calliope gave the little boy a gentle push towards the bathroom closest to his bedroom, the one she'd redecorated in a more child-friendly, brightly-coloured _Finding Nemo_ motif. "Two whole minutes, Jack. Until the song ends."

"Okay, Aunt Callie!" Jack, followed closely by Perses, ran across the house making airplane sounds as he went and Calliope could hear the four-year-old thumping around in his bathroom. She loved the sound of little feet pattering around the house, of a child's ringing laughter when Spongebob went through the grater and became a pile of fries, the soft protests of 'I'm not sleepy' when she tucked him in and kissed his forehead before turning off the lights. She didn't love when it was ripped away from her and the house was suddenly plunged into icy, utterly unwelcome silence once again. Pouring herself yet another cup of coffee, Calliope put the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher and turned on the small flat screen television that sat on the kitchen counter, flipping through the various news channels.

"– even over two months later, bodies are still being pulled from the rubble of collapsed buildings in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. The death toll continues to climb and is now ranked the sixth deadliest earthquake in recorded history. Casualties have been estimated between ninety-two thousand and two hundred and thirty thousand deaths. U.S. and UN relief efforts –"

"– laid off over five hundred American workers when they outsourced to companies overseas. PR representatives have not offered a comment or explanation about their decision, but one can assume –"

"– flipped while going around a blind curve at four o'clock this morning, causing a six car pile-up because oncoming vehicles could not see the overturned eighteen-wheeler. Four dead, including the driver of the Wal-Mart semi-truck, Sven Johansson. Three people have been life-lighted to the hospital. We caution you to find an alternate root if you're approa –"

"– two U.S. Marines – Captain Drew Pickard and Sergeant Justin Eason – were killed in action today during an ambush by Afghan insurgents. They will be –"

"– drowned her twin infant sons in the bathtub and is being held –"

"– in Chile has stabilized and is still at five hundred and twenty-one deaths, down from previous reports of casualties totaling eight hundred and two deaths reported on March third. This is the strongest earthquake to hit Chile since the Great Chilean Earthquake in nineteen sixty, which registered a nine point five on the moment magnitude scale and is still the most powerful earthquake ever recorded. The earthquake in Haiti was five hundred times less powerful than the recent earthquake to hit Chi –"

Closing her eyes and trying not to think of Emeline and Chanté over in Haiti or of her two cousins shipping back to the Middle East in the fall or all the other little children in Chile and in Haiti or the stench of rotting flesh in the mass graves she and Emeline had passed multiple times a day or any of the other terrible things weighing her thoughts down like lead, Calliope turned off the television and picked the framed picture of Spencer and Emeline smiling at each other. Looking at Emeline's sweet, happy smile, she felt her eyes water and she ran the back of her hand over them.

Putting the picture back down, Calliope glanced up at the clock on the microwave as she grabbed Jack's superhero backpack and unzipped it, checking to make sure every was still safely contained inside before she pulled his snack out of the subzero and placed it inside. She wanted her Emeline home, home with her and with Spencer. If she were here now, Calliope would be balancing the half-asleep toddler on her hip while she moved around the kitchen and Emeline's head would be resting on her chest, her small fingers fisted near her mouth while she sucked mercilessly on her thumb.

"Jack! We gotta go, buddy. We have to get you to preschool."

"Almost done."

"Matching shoes, Jack!"

"Okay!"

Calliope opened the subzero again, pulled out a CapriSun Pacific Cooler and dropped it in Jack's backpack before zipping the backpack closed and taking another sip of her coffee. Glancing at the clock, she grabbed her purse and hollered for Jack that he had better be ready in two minutes or she'd go without him.

Reaching up to her neck, Calliope closed her hand around the delicate gold quatrefoil pendant hanging on the necklace she wore. Spencer had given her the necklace seven months ago on their one-year anniversary; she remembered the day like it had been yesterday. Spencer had been gone on a case for ten days and finally came home at ten o'clock that night. She'd been playing Scrabble against herself and he offered her an opponent, an offer she turned down in favour of cuddling close to him and kissing him in welcome. Somehow, the sneaky magician had managed to slip the necklace into the left pocket of her jeans without her noticing and get a matching miniature of the necklace attached to the charm bracelet she wore every day. Calliope still had no idea how her String Bean had done either.

She missed him. Even with Perses curled up at her feet, the bed was lonely without him: she missed feeling his heartbeat under her cheek as she feel asleep, missed the gentle tug on her scalp as he ran his fingers through her hair, missed listening to his voice as they talked before bed, miss the soft kisses he used to wake her up in the morning. Though, they hadn't been doing any of that lately. It was her fault, all of it. She knew that. She was pushing him away. Every time he touched her, she pulled away physically; every time he spoke to her, she pulled away mentally; every time he reminded her he loved her, she pulled away emotionally. Why? Why was she pushing him away this way when she really only wanted to curl up in his arms and cry? Why was she just waiting until he gave up on her and left?

"I'm ready, Aunt Callie!" Jack's proclamation drew her out of her thoughts and she pushed a smile onto her face.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Ugh," Spencer rolled over on what was quite possibly the most uncomfortable mattress ever created in the world since the Neolithic Era when Cro-Magnons put animal skins over piles of leaves and grass. He had only spent the past few nights in this damp hotel sleeping on this rock of a mattress and already his back was so out of whack he needed either a chiropractor or a very long, very hot bath. He slapped the small travel alarm clock a few times until it stopped its acute shrilling and left the room in silence.

Silence was good. Peaceful. At least here. Here, the silence was nice. At home the silence was excruciating, painful, the acoustic indie rock music Calliope played was even worse. It was this one artist that she only played when she was depressed or in a mood, Grant-Lee Phillips, and no one else. She played his first album, that _Ladies Love Oracle_ album, on loop when she was sad. Over and over and over again. When she played Phillips with other artists, the world was well, but when _Ladies Love Oracle_ was on loop Spencer knew something in their world was not right.

_Ladies Love Oracle_ had played continuously since the Monday night he'd come home to find her lying in a virtual coma. She wouldn't talk to him, she wouldn't talk to Ben or Brenda, she wouldn't let him touch her, even if it was just tapping her shoulder, unless she'd fallen asleep on the couch and he carried her to bed. The only time in the past eleven days he'd seen her face look alive was when she picked up Jack three days ago. Her face lit up and the crooked smile he loved so much, but would have sworn lay buried somewhere in the backyard resurfaced in force at the sight of Jack and life poured back into her body and her soul as she scooped the little boy up and hugged and kiss him.

His life made no sense anymore. Everything he did at home was wrong. Well, it might not necessarily be wrong, but it certainly wasn't right. She never acknowledged him or anything that he did. She seemed to just want him to leave. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want any part in a life without her.

But she didn't seem to want him any longer. She wouldn't talk to him. As soon as Chanté or the nanny logged Emeline off of iChat and the video chat cut out, Calliope slammed the MacBook shut, clicked the remote until _Ladies Love Oracle_ started playing, scooted as far away from him as the couch would allow and died.

He picked up his phone and glanced at the time, mentally adding two hours. Jack would be in preschool by now and Calliope would be in line at Starbucks to get an Americano. He could call her now, not that it would make a difference. She wouldn't pick up.

Pushing himself off the bed, he stumbled into the bathroom, starting the pathetic coffee maker before turning on the shower. Maybe he'd try calling her one more time. Maybe she'd pick up.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"No, I don't want to do that. Victoria, listen to me. I don't want to. Why? Why does it matter why I don't want to? I don't have to explain myself to you, Victoria. You work for me. Not the other way around. I pay your salary. So, if I don't want to have a press conference outing me as the artist, I don't have to. You're my manager, not my decision maker. I'm still the decision maker. My paintbrush, my choice.

"Yes, and you'd better start doing whatever it is you have to go do to take back what you said. I don't care if you look stupid, Victoria. You shouldn't have promised a press conference without asking me first! What should you say? You should say you lied and spoke before talking to the painter. Victoria, fix it. Oh, and, just for future reference, if you ever pull a stunt like this again you won't be talking to me, you'll be talking to unemployment, I can promise you that."

"No. I don't have anything new. I'm not painting right now. No, it's not your business and, no, you can't ask. I just need a break, Victoria. Fix this mess. I'm hanging up now. Goodbye."

Calliope scowled furiously as she shoved her iPhone back into the pocket of her faded jeans and pulled her thick pink jacket tighter around herself as she hurried up the stone steps to Jacks' private preschool. It was snowing. In March. Without warning, the sky had simply opened up and snow flurries had started falling until the ground was coated in a thick blanket of white. Jack would love finding out that the world had turned into a winter wonderland while he was in school. Closing the heavy cedar door behind her, Calliope shook herself slightly to dislodge some of the snow clinging to her shoulders and hair.

"Hi, welcome to Blanton School. What can I do for you?" The middle-aged woman behind the desk looked up and smiled.

"I'm just here to pick up my nephew," Calliope told her, her voice flat and dull. "I think I'm a little early though. It started to snow so I ran inside."

"You can sign him out a little early and then wait for them to finish, if you'd like. I think they're about to wrap up for the day."

"Jack Hotchner. I'm here to get Jack Hotchner. My name's Calliope Sellers."

"I.D. please?" Calliope fished her drivers' license out of her purse and handed it to the woman, turning a bit when a door opened and children's laughter became loud for a moment before the door shut again. "Miss, you're not listed as –"

"Yes, I am. I'm one of his legal guardians," Calliope said tightly.

"The only three listed here for Jack Hotchner are Aaron Hotchner, Haley Hotchner, and Jessica Brooks."

"Haley Hotchner past away in November. I assure you, I am one of Jack's legal guardians. I picked him up yesterday and the day before and the day before that. Jessica and I take care of Jack when Aaron's away. My name is on there."

"I'm sorry, Miss, your name isn't on here."

"I've picked Jack up several times since November and I've never had a problem before. I know I'm on the list of people allowed to pick up Jack. I stood right here while Aaron –"

"Aunt Callie!" Jack ran towards Calliope, his backpack flapping against his back, and wrapped his arms around her neck when she bent to pick him up.

"Hey, Jack Attack."

"Jack, you can't just run off like that," a young woman ran up after him a little out of breath.

"I told you it was Aunt Callie," Jack said simply.

"Jack, did you come over here without permission?" Calliope looked at him seriously.

"Yes," Jack bit his bottom lip and turned big doe eyes on his aunt.

"Jack, you know better than that," she scolded. "If you run away from people and we can't see you, someone might steal you away from us like some of the little boys and girls Daddy has to go help save from bad men and women. Do you want someone to steal you away from me or Aunt Jessica or Daddy?"

"No," he shook his head.

"I don't want anyone to steal you away either, Jack. That's why you can't run away from me or your teachers or anyone who's taking care of you no matter who you think you see. Understand?" Jack nodded and hugged her neck tighter. "You need to apologize to Mrs. Raye for running away."

"Sorry, Mrs. Raye."

"Apology accepted, Jack. You and Aunt Callie have a good weekend, okay?"

Calliope put Jack down and straightened the boys' coat and pulled his hat, scarf and mittens from his backpack. Once Jack was bundled up and ready to head outside, Calliope stood up again to see the woman behind the desk still watching her.

"I swear I'm on that list. Let me see it. I want to see the paper." Calliope said, folding her arms across her chest. The woman shrugged and handed over the sheet of paper, which Calliope took one look at and handed back. "That's dated last March. Of course I'm not on there. Where's the new list?"

Soon the duo walked down the sidewalk hand-in-hand while Jack rambled on about everything they'd done in preschool and how he was the bestest Heads-Up, Seven-Up player ever in the whole history of the world. The little boy stopped every ten yards or so to stick his tongue out and try to catch snowflakes on his tongue. Jack begged Calliope to make a snowman with him and he was happily cold and tired when she finally strapped him in his booster seat in the backseat of the Cayenne.

"Aunt Callie? Can I have criss-cross fries?"

"You want Chick-Fil-A for lunch?"

"Yeah! Criss-cross fries!"

"You gonna have some chicken with your criss-cross fries?" Calliope teased as she tugged on his straps to make sure they were secure.

"I want chicken nuggets."

"I think we can make that happen, buddy. But you have to eat the chicken, not just the fries. Pinky promise?"

"Promise," Jack giggled as Calliope linked her pinkie with his and they brought their hands to their mouths and blew raspberries to make a duck sound. Shivering, Calliope ran around the SUV to get into the drivers seat and turn on the ignition, quickly turning the air on as hot as it would go until it warmed up.

"What do you say we listen to _The Lion King_ on the way to the criss-cross fries?"

"I just can't wait to be king!"

"I'll take that as a yes," she smiled and switched the CD changer until she found _The Lion King_ soundtrack and she and Jack sang along with Timon and Pumba while Calliope drove carefully down the snowy roads. Sighing, she realized she'd forgotten about the construction on this particular road and hadn't detoured around to a different street as she came to a stop in front of a worker holding a 'stop' sign. Eventually, they filtered through and made it into the Chick-Fil-A parking lot just in time for the lunch rush.

"Don't let go of my hand, Jack," Calliope had to raise her voice to for Jack to hear her over the ruckus as they shuffled into the packed fast food restaurant. After a few minutes of people shoving past the little boy while they waited in line, Calliope picked him up and held him on her hip. "What do you want to drink, Jack? Lemonade? Yeah, you love their lemonade, donchya? You're like a little lemonade monster. I bet, if I let you, you'd drink so much you'd explode!"

"– one hour ago. Isabelle was last seen wearing a red jacket and blue jeans. She was taken from a McDonalds on the corner of 13th and F Street. Witnesses saw a blue Toyota minivan, Maryland license plate T39 VD0, speed off down F Street. Isabelle is four years old, three foot two inches tall and weights approximately sixty-five pounds. She had brown hair and blue eyes. Please, if you see this girl or that van, call the number at the bottom of your screen. Isabelle's parents –"

Calliope squeezed Jack tightly as she, along with every other adult in the building, stared up in horror at the television mounted in the corner when the manager turned the volume up. Had this little girl, this Isabelle, wandered away from her parent for the briefest moment and simply disappeared? Had she seen someone she thought was a friend or teacher and ran over to say hi? Had someone offered her something to lure her away from whoever had taken her to the McDonalds? Had she run off to play on the playground without saying anything to anybody?

"Too tight, Aunt Callie."

"Sorry, Jack Attack. Aunt Callie just got scared."

"Why? There's no place for monsters to hide here."

"If only that were true, baby," Calliope whispered as she kissed his forehead and moved up to the counter to order, wondering if Spencer and their familiy would have been called to help find Isabelle if they weren't already on a case in Iowa.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Someone else call García," Reid said as he flipped through Claudia Simmons' file and highlighted certain points.

"Why? Did your thumb break?" Prentiss asked him sarcastically.

"No. She won't talk to me," he said matter-of-fact as he closed Claudia's file, put it down and moved on to Marsha Yizerman's file.

"She won't talk to you?" Hotch looked up. "García apologized to the table when she bumped into it."

"She didn't realize it was a table at first. She just apologized on instinct," Prentiss defended their technical analyst.

"She talks to her computers," Hotch continued.

"Well, if I were a computer, maybe she'd talk to me," Reid said flippantly.

"Hi. Yeah. We're still talking to you, Reid," Prentiss looked up and stared at him. "Don't take your anger out of us or we'll stop talking to you too. What's going on? What's up with Garc?"

"I yelled at her. She's mad at me. It's my fault. I'll apologize later."

"You yelled at her?" Hotch furrowed his brow and studied the, usually, most even-tempered of their clan.

"You know how easily her feelings get hurt!" Prentiss said, stunned. "What's wrong with you? You know García's all talk and no armour when her friends are mad at her."

"You know what, Prentiss, I really don't feel like sitting here and listening to you tell me what a horrible person I am. If I wanted to feel completely incompetent and worthless, I'd go home," Reid stood up and grabbed the rest of the files, walking out of the room.

"Do you know something that I don't know?" Prentiss turned to Hotch as the door shut behind the lanky genius. "I think I missed a memo or maybe an entire newsletter with some rather important information. I'm guessing you didn't get a newsletter either, huh?

"No," Hotch watched through the glass window and saw Reid sit down in a wood chair as a vacant desk and start going through his files again. "I'm going to go see what's wrong. He's not useful if he's in this headspace."

"Don't kid yourself. You care."

"You keep going through… _that_."

"Sure thing, Virginia Satir."

"Just keep working and stop drinking coffee," Hotch walked out of the glass menagerie they'd been given to work in to sit next to Reid. "Find anything?"

"Nothing yet. I'm fine, Hotch."

"You nearly verbally decapitated Prentiss. You yelled at García. I've known you started the FBI academy seven years ago, Reid. Neither of those actions constitutes you being fine. What's going on?"

"When I find out, I'll let you know."

"Reid, Callie has my son. I think I deserve a little insight."

"Jack is fine. Besides, he would have said something when you talked to him if something was going wrong or out of the normal for when he's with her."

"Is Callie… is she going to be… part of this family? For the long haul?" Hotch spoke slowly and chose his words carefully, trying to be both sensitive to Reid and ask a hard question that he, as Jack's father, needed to ask.

Reid's pause told Hotch more than words could.

"It's been difficult. I don't know what's wrong. She won't talk to me."

"Maybe she just needs to process more before she can share."

"No. I mean, she won't talk to me. The last time she spoke to me was six days ago and she said 'Please, get some toilet paper' as I was leaving to go to WalGreens. I don't think I did anything. She's not acting angry, just very, very depressed."

"Something to do with Emeline, perhaps?"

"It more than that. She was doing alright with Emeline. We were doing alright. It's hard and it hurts, but she was talking, doing things… Now, though, she just sits and stares. She completely changed when she saw Jack. She came back to life. At first I thought it was a version of postnatal depression, but I know it's not. Typically, women with PND recoil from their children, but Calliope's only herself when she's talking to Emeline or with Jack."

"Is this what you and García –"

"Yes. García knows what's wrong and she won't tell me anything. She's the only person Calliope has spoken to at all. She knows and she's letting me flounder around in the dark waiting to do something so wrong that Calliope snaps and actually speaks to me, something along the lines of 'get out, I never want to see you again.'"

"So you yelled at her."

"I snapped."

"She's being loyal to Callie. You said it yourself – she and Callie are cut from the same mold. They're best friends."

"I know. I plan on apologizing. I tried once, but she didn't pick up. I don't really think she's purposefully not speaking to me."

"Things will work out, Reid."

"No offense, Hotch, but that's not at all reassuring coming from you or anyone else on this team."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope sat in the plush armchair, silently watching Jack run around in the snow with his friend Sammy. She felt trapped in her own mind as she curled Spencer's sweater tighter around her.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Hmm? Oh. Coffee, yes. Only with my oxygen. Yes, please. Thank you," she accepted the mug that Sammy's father offered her.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, Father Matthews. I'm fine."

"Just call me Colin."

"Alright."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Colin asked, sitting in the armchair across adjacent from her and looked out the window to watch the two boys playing.

"I'm sure. Just tired."

"I'm sorry," Colin offered a smile. "Occupational hazard. Sometimes I forget myself."

"It's fine." Calliope sipped her coffee and watched as Jack threw a snowball at Sammy.

"I've seen you pick up Jack from Sunday school. You don't attend yourself?"

"I, uh, no. I don't. I'm not a regular church-goer," Calliope blushed. "I'm one of those terrible Christmas-and-Easter Christians. If I'm in Williamsburg on Sundays I go with my grandparents."

"A little church is better than no church," Colin smiled. "It's wonderful that you honour Haley's wishes by making sure to bring Jack when Aaron's away."

Calliope nodded but remained silent, sipping her coffee.

"Your grandparents are regular church-goers."

"Practically live there. I was a regular until I moved to Florence after college."

"With all the beautiful churches in Italy?"

"Most services were in Latin or Italian slightly beyond my reach."

"Ah."

"There aren't a lot of Baptist churches in Italy either."

"Well, you are always welcome at Saint Sebastian whenever you want."

"Thank you, but I'm, uh, I'm not really a church-approved kind of gal," Calliope stared down at the simple blue bracelet Spencer had given her for Valentines Day and remembered Emeline's face when he gave her the silver tiara necklace.

"Unless He's changed His policy since the last time I read the Book, God doesn't put little stamps on the bottom of our feet saying 'approved' or 'declined.' He loves everyone the same, Calliope. No matter what's happened or what we've done, He's always waiting for His children to come home to Him. We don't have to deserve His love, sweet girl; there's nothing we can do to deserve His love. That's not how He works. He has given us His love. All He wants is for us to accept it."

Sweet girl. That's what Spencer called her. Sweet girl. Sweetheart. Crazy. She definitely didn't deserve his love after the past two weeks. She didn't deserve for him to even look at her. But, at the same time, she couldn't stop herself from recoiling from his touch. The thought of kissing him or touching him actually made her feel slightly ill. What was wrong with her?

She loved his kisses, loved his touch. She loved him. And, yet, she couldn't. She just couldn't.

"I'm sorry if I offended you or said something out of line."

"What? Oh, no. I'm-I'm sorry. I'm just not fully here, I suppose."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk? I'm a very good listener."

"A, uh… An adoption fell through. That's all. I'm not dealing with it very well."

"We have a group at the church for women who have gone through or are going through the loss of a child, in any form. You don't necessarily have to be a churchgoer. It might help."

"I'll think about it. Thank you." Calliope looked down at her bracelet again and sank back into the chair. Maybe going to church or the group would help. Maybe. She used to feel so safe in church when she was younger. "What song is this?"

"_God Must Be Busy_ by Brooks and Dunn. Are you a country fan?"

"Uh, no. Not really. My cousins like country, but it's not really my cup of tea. Or, my cup of coffee, in my case. Heh. This song is nice though."

"I think so."

"… _to understand. You can see it in the faces of all those highway strangers. They're praying that God keeps that girl from danger. God must be busy. And I know in the big picture I'm just a speck of sand and God's got better things to do than look out for one man. I know He's heard my prayers. 'Cause He hears everything. He just ain't answered back or He'd bring you back to me. God must be busy. Yeah, the evening news, ain't much changed, pretty much the same since I left home. Yeah, that war's still on."_

"Aunt Callie! I have snow in my pants." Jack pouted as he and Sammy ran into the house. Standing up, Calliope smiled and picked up her sweet little nephew.

"I think I might have a second set of pants for you, Jack Attack."

"_They found that little girl. She was soaking wet, half scared to death on the side of some road. Them prayers work you know. And the bloods and crips are at it and there's a killer drought down south and old folks can't afford the drugs they can't live without. God must be busy. And I know in the big picture I'm just a speck of sand and God's got better things to do than look out for one man. I know He's heard my prayers. 'Cause He hears everything. He just ain't answered back or He'd bring you back to me. God must be busy. That anchorman says the fighting's worse, cities burn in the Middle East, the world prays for peace."_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Jack, go wash the spaghetti sauce off your face," Calliope scrapped the last scraps left on the plates into the trash. "Your dad's going to be calling soon. Like now. Jack! Hurry up, Buddy. Hi Aaron. Jack's washing his face. What? Oh. Spaghetti sauce. Yes. The magic dinosaur meatballs. Nope. No chance of me telling you how I make them. It's an Aunt Callie specialty. Here's your son."

"Hi, Daddy. It snowed today. We made a snowman. And I got criss-cross fries," Jack climbed up into Calliope's favorite chair and Calliope waited a moment before reaching into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone.

"Hi, sweetie!" Calliope smiled happily when Emeline answered with a cheerful 'Maman!' "How are you, Eme? Yes, I miss you too. More than anything. Poppy called you? That's great, sweetie. Did you two have a good talk? Good. I'm glad. Yes, Poppy misses you, silly. Almost as much as I do. Did you get the cloths? Yeah? I'm glad you like them, sweetie."

Calliope sat down on the couch and listened to Emeline's voice tell her about her day. Perses jumped up next to her and crawled into her lap, dropping Spencer's chewed up blue sock into her lap like a present.

"Thank you, Pers," she whispered and scratched his head, still listening to her daughter. Eventually, the call ended and Calliope closed her eyes and whipped the water from her lashes. Biting her lip, she looked down at the phone in her hand and dialed before she could change her mind.

"_Hello?"_

"S-Spencer?"

"_Calliope?"_

"I… I, uh… Are you okay?"

_ "I'm fine, Sweetheart. Are you okay?"_

"I'm fine. I, uh, be safe, okay? I… I love you and c-come home soon, okay?"

_ "I will. I love you too."_

"Bye."

_ "Bye." Spencer stared down at the mobile in his phone as checked to make sure it really was Calliope's name flashing across the LED screen. She loved him and she wanted him home. She called him. The call had been awkward and slightly confusing, but she had called him. There was still hope._

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Aunt Callie! Aunt Callie!" Jack ran into Calliope's bedroom yelling just as Calliope had been on the verge of finally dropping off to sleep. Perses, curled up at the bottom of the bed, perked his head up and stared as the boy climbed onto the bed and crawled over to where Calliope lay pushed up on her elbows to see him. "I had a nightmare."

"Come on, buster," Calliope said softly, smiling, and lifted the blanket to let the four-year-old scuttle underneath. Jack cuddled close to her and Calliope kissed the top of his head and ran a hand comfortingly over his back. "What'd you dream about, Jack Attack?"

"George the Bad Guy," he whispered pitifully and Calliope's heart hurt as she hugged him tighter.

"George the Bad Guy, huh? I bet we can make him go away, what do you think?"

"How?" Jack sniffled curiously.

"Well… how does Daddy make the bad guys go away?"

"H-he catches them and they fight and then Daddy wins and he takes the bad guys to jail foreber and eber. Nobody beats Daddy," Jack nodded seriously against Calliope's stomach and she could feel his shaking lessen.

"That's right. Nobody beats Daddy or your aunts and uncles. They always get the bad guys. Just like they got George."

"But George got Mommy," his voice wavered dangerously on the verge of crying and Calliope pulled him closer into her arms, wrapping the blankets around them more snuggly.

"I know, baby. Mommy was one brave mommy, Jack. You know that? She's a hero, just like Daddy."

"Really?"

"Really. Mommy helped catch George; Mommy protected you. She loved you more than anything in the whole wild world. And she always, always will."

"I can't see Mommy anymore."

"No, we can't see Mommy anymore, but Mommy can see us."

"She can?"

"Yup. Do you remember Father Matthews? Grandma Cathy takes you. Father Matthews' is your Sunday school teacher when he's not just Sammy's dad?" Calliope waited until Jack nodded before continuing. "Remember what he said about where Mommy is?"

"Mommy's in Heaven. With God and Jesus."

"Exactly right. But, do you want to know something about Heaven? Something really super, duper cool?"

"What?"

"God put holes in the floor of Heaven."

"Why? They could fall through the floor."

"Angels don't need to worry about falling through the floor, Jack Attack. God put holes so that all the Mommies and Daddies who had to go to Heaven can watch over their families even though we can't see them. So, even though we can't see Mommy, Mommy can see us. She can see us all the time."

"Can she see us right now?"

"She sure can."

"Does she miss me?"

"Oh yeah. She misses you more than anything."

Jack's questions got softer and softer as he started to fall back to sleep. Before long, the little boy fell silent and limp in her arms and Calliope decided against carrying him back into his own room. Kissing his forehead one last time, she closed her eyes.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Reid, Jack isn't in his bedroom."

"What? Both the cars are there," Spencer pulled off his shoes and looked up in confusion.

"Well, Jack is not in his bed, Reid." Aaron came out.

"Uh… Maybe he's in my room with Calliope."

"Can you go check?"

"Just a second," Spencer tossed his jacket onto the couch as he passed it on the way to his bedroom. Quietly cracking the door open, he checked inside and nodded at Aaron. "Come on. Come get your son, because, if you don't, I have to sleep in one of the guestrooms."

He watched as Aaron gently woke Jack up, waking Calliope in the process.

"Sleep. Roads." Calliope mumbled, kissing Jack's cheek and hugging him before Aaron picked him up.

Aaron looked at Spencer expectantly for a translation.

"The roads are icy. She wants you to pick a guestroom."

"Thank you. I'm going to put Jack back in his bed. Goodnight, Callie. Night, Reid."

"Night, Hotch."

"Mmgh."

Aaron closed the door behind him and Spencer walked around the bed into the closet. He grabbed the nearest set of pajama bottoms and changed quickly. He smiled briefly when he noticed the teddy bear he'd given her as part of his first gift to her wasn't sitting in his usual home. Burt – Spencer still wasn't sure why she'd chosen to name the bear Burt – was only removed from his home when Calliope had him. She was strangely possessive of Burt. That and she was terrified Perses would decide Burt would make a good snack if she left him anywhere within the dogs' reach. Burt must be in bed.

Spencer slipped into bed and pulled the comforters up. Turning his head, he looked over at Calliope lying on her side with her back to him and Burt dangling precariously on the edge. He could see her ribs through her pastel green tank top. She'd lost more weight. He needed to get her to the doctor.

He was so deep in thought he didn't notice her turning around to face him until her lips where pressed against his. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly to his chest, carefully exploring her mouth with his. Calliope cupped her hands to his jaw and held his head to hers, deepening the kiss and pushing him onto his back.

Spencer groaned as she moved above him and his hips jerked of their own volition. He wanted her. He knew he would probably regret this later, but he pulled her tank top off and pushed her pajama shorts down, digging his fingers into her back as she kicked them off her ankles and attacked his pajamas. Calliope gasped softly, biting his shoulder to muffle the noise. Spencers hands roamed as they moved together, loving the soft noises she made because of him, the desperate way she said his name.

Calliope collapsed against his chest and he held her tightly as they both fought to catch their breath. Kissing her forehead, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He'd needed this. She'd needed this. _They_ need this. This closeness had been missing and, though he was sure tomorrow life would go back to what had become normal as of late, he loved feeling her body pressed against his and she traced patterns on his chest with her fingertip.

"I love you," he whispered, kissing her.

"I love you too," she kissed him back. "I missed you."

"I've been missing you."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"What's going on, Sweetheart?"

"It's… it's just Eme. I miss her." Spencer sighed inwardly at what he knew was an outright lie and shifted his arms more securely around her as he felt her begin to withdraw.

"You'll tell me when you're ready?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine." Calliope whispered, willing him to stop and to let go so she could move off of him and to her side of the bed, but his grip on her was unyielding and she couldn't move away without hurting him. She wanted to stop touching him. She wanted to run away to her studio and sleep in the corner far, far away from Spencer. She felt ill. She felt dirty. She felt like she deserved to be tarred and feathered and hung in Salem and a whole slew of other awful and outdated punishments for people who didn't deserve what they had. A rack! She needed to buy a rack and have someone string her up on it and stretch her until her arms and legs were pulled from their sockets.

She couldn't regain control of her breathing. Her inhales were becoming more and more shallow and she became aware of the knot of stress and anxiety tangling her insides. She couldn't breath. She felt her stomach revolt and she pulled out of his arms and ran into the bathroom, not quite making it to the toilet in time.

The contents of her stomach made a sickening splash in the toilet as she heaved and gripped the rim tightly, barely hearing Spencer walking around the vomit on the tile to sit on the side of the bathtub and contain her untamable mane of hair in one hand and soothingly run his other hand over her back. Her stomach continued to heave long after she expelled everything she had consumed. She leaned her forehead against edge of the toilet seat and she started crying.

Spencer moved to sit next to her and ignored her blubbered protests that she didn't want him to touch her as he pulled her into his lap and cradled her close, rocking her back and forth and speaking softly in her ear, trying to assure her things would be alright, the panic attack was over and she'd be okay.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Again, sorry for the delay, even though, _TECHNICALLY_, I'm not late because this is a holiday weekend and thus slightly longer. Life got in the way. That and writer's blockage. Not writer's block, writer's blockage. For those playing the home game, writer's blockage is what happens when you know what you're going to write, ect, but lack the devotion and discipline to actually sit down and write it. I'm a bad, bad girl. The good news? I'm usually far more devoted and disciplined than this and rarely develop writers blockage.**

**Anywhos... I hope you enjoyed this since I struggled through writer's blockage to write it, so you better otherwise I'll... I don't know yet. I'll think about it and get back to you. :)**

**AND YES! This is totally going somewhere. I'm not just torturing you to be mean. I have this entire story story-boarded down to the last chapter. So, believe me, the story in it's entirety is strategically and devotedly crafted, even that which is unwritten as of yet, and none of it is throw together or written for fun to see what happens. So, I really hope you appreciate the current bane of my existence. I'm just teasing. I'm loving every minute of it.**

**Okay. I've consumed like... half a dozen Diet Dr. Peppers, so I think it'd be best if I stop this author's note and just leave you with the faint idea that I'm completely outside my mind and this:**

**I hope you love _Mystery Muse_ as much as I do! Please, tell me what you think, good or bad (except be nice because I'm very emotionally fragile with all this caffeine in my system. HA! Just kidding. You may be brutal if you feel you must.)**

**Seriously this time. I'm getting off.**

**Love, Thalia**


	33. Letter to Readers

My Dearest Readers and Friends,

I first want to say that I love you all very, very much. I feel like we're truly friends in a way. Like the Internet is sort of our virtual living room where we can hang out and have fun together. I love sharing my life with you in my authors' notes and in the twitter account Calliope has (**twosamuse**) and I love hearing from you in reviews or private messages or through twitter.

Which is why I'm very, very sad to say that I'm putting _Mystery Muse_ on hold for a while. I wasn't planning on doing this, I was simply going to have another delayed update because my beloved younger brother is currently recovering from surgery and my mum and I are taking care of him and because I'm transferring to another apartment up at university this weekend. Due to these events, I have been working on and was going to update with Chapter 33 as soon as I could, just like I always do if some event in life (like finals, etcetera) get in the way. However, what I found tonight has altered that plan.

Tonight, I was messing around on Google (I love Google!) and typed in "Calliope Sellers" just for laughs. At first I got what I expected – the Twitter account, various links to my fanfiction, the Flicker account for the Twitter account, some random stuff that was linked to either "Calliope" or "Sellers" but then I found a Facebook page for Calliope Sellers. I laughed, astonished that someone out there was actually named Calliope Sellers. So I clicked on the link to see what this person looked like and it turned out to be _**my**_ Calliope Sellers. I was shocked at first and after I picked my jaw up off the ground, I saw that this person had also created pages for Benjamin Sellers, Brenda Sellers, Emilio Moretti, Eli Gregg, Isaac Gregg, Breelyn Gregg (her last name had been changed to "Wyatt") and I'm assuming this person changed Ashanti Gregg to "Jailynn Alent" because she is listed as Eli, Isaac and Breelyns' sister. There was also Catherine Brooks, Allison Johnson, Brianne "Herbst" and "Lauren" McEwen. Added to my characters, there were the characters that appeared in canon Criminal Minds, but the details where from _Mystery Muse_ not the canon Criminal Minds.

This person took my characters and the details of my story. Stole my characters. My property. Without my permission or even giving me the courtesy of asking or telling me what (s)he was doing. I have poured my time and my entire heart and soul into crafting both these characters and this world and the fact that someone would do this leaves me heartsick. I love these characters and this world. These people are real to me, I have spent that much time with them. I can see them, I can hear them when I write, they are real. They are real, they are my family and my friends and I love them.

I considered all of you my friends and, yet, one of you hurt me in a way I would never dream of hurting any of you.

Even though I'm hurt and angry over this, I'm also honoured and flattered that this person loves my creation enough to want a way for them to become even more real. I'm glad that you like my stories enough to follow every update and want the characters to be real, but, at the same time, not one of you had the right to take my creation without my permission. The irony of all of this is that I was considering giving you, my readers and my friends, the decision of whether or not you would like me to create a Facebook "world" for _Mystery Muse_ that you could have fun with.

Please know that I do honestly love all of you and this changes none of that. I still love you and I still consider you my friends and I will get over this and go on writing _Mystery Muse_ and the other one-shots that go along with it. What I ask is that the person who created these accounts contact me through FanFiction or the Facebook page I created to message him/her. As soon as this person contacts me, I will begin updating again.

To the creator of the Facebook pages: I want to tell you that I am not mad at you. I don't know why; I'm surprised I'm not, but I'm not. I would like to talk to you and, I assure you, when we talk it will remain between the two of us and I will never disclose who you are to anyone. I don't want to yell at you or anything of that nature. I simply want to talk. Everything I had to say about my hurt and anger I have said in this letter and in the message I sent to you over Facebook. So, please, don't be afraid to contact me: you aren't in trouble. I just want to talk.

I hope all of you, those who had no idea this happened and the person who created the accounts, understand why this upsets me so much and will be patient while I deal with this. And, please!, add me as your friend on Facebook (Thalia Gratiae) - it's just one more place we can have fun and hang out.

I love you all,

Thalia Gratiae


	34. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Count not thyself to have found true peace, if thou hast felt no grief; nor that then all is well if thou hast no adversary; nor that this is perfect if all things fall out according to thy desire." – Honoré de Balzac_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

10 April, 2010

It was raining. Not a heavy, sporadic rain accompanied by rumbling thunder and flashes of lightening, but a steady, never-ending downpour of rain that pattered off the roof and porch and splashed against the puddles scattered around the yard. The pounding of hammers and spattered shouting from construction workers blended with the rain to create an audible aroma not oft experienced while comfortably pretzeled in an overstuffed armchair reading possibly the most ostentatious, intricate, arduous yet beautiful and masterfully crafted novels ever penned.

Spencer glanced up from his tattered, annotated copy of _Ulysses _whose discoloured pages barely clung to the spine with dabs of dried up glue to look at Calliope curled up on the couch with Perses. At nearly eight months old, Perses was still rather runty and smaller than the average Berner, but he was growing rapidly and had lost a good deal of his milk teeth. Perses' teething came at the expense of Spencer's sock drawer. Usually Calliope replaced the socks as they disappeared, but she hadn't been functioning on a basic human level as of late, much less replenishing his sock drawer and he always forgot until the next morning when he needed a pair of socks. As Perses grew, his sock drawer shrank. Already, the dog weighed more than Calliope, not that that was hard with the rapid way she was losing weight and the way he was gaining.

Lowering his beloved book to his lap, he watched her squeeze Burt to her chest and snuggled deeper into the pillow she had mashed up into the perfect smushed position. He bit his cheek to avoid laughing when he noticed Perses covertly gnawing on Burt's left foot. Calliopes eyes were glued to the flatscreen mounted above the fireplace where a two-year-old Calliope was running across the screen chasing a German Shepherd around the yard screeching happily.

She'd been watching home movies since the construction crew woke them up at seven that morning. The clock on the DVD player glowed ten fifteen and Spencer watched a much younger Ben run into the camera's view and scoop Calliope up in his arms.

"Gampa! Doggy!" She squealed happily and pointed a pudgy hand at the German Shepherd still running in circles and barking happily.

"You better be careful, Peanut," Ben smiled and pushed some of Calliope's sunny red curls out of her face, kissing her cheek. "Doc's not going to let you pull his tail like that much longer."

"Doggy! Down, Gampa. Doggy!"

"Oh, let her down, Ben," Brenda laughed from off screen. "Doc won't hurt her. He never hurt any of the…"

Ben looked up with a sad expression at what Spencer assumed was Brenda almost mentioning Calliope's siblings. He looked down at Calliope's happy face and the chubby little arms still reaching for Doc, who had lowered himself into the grass panting with his tongue lazily hanging out of his mouth. Spencer's guess put Doc at six or seven years old, but his gaze was stuck on the intent expression on the toddler's round face.

Calliope shrieked loudly as her grandfather continued to ignore her demand and she leaned towards the dog even farther, prompting Ben to tighten his hold on her before he placed her back in the grass and let her tumble over to the dog. Spencer bit his cheek again to keep from laughing as he watched the little redhead straddle Doc's back and wrap her arms around his neck.

"Up!" Her command was high pitched and insistent, almost a warning of how Calliope would act in later life, but the dog listened, rose from the grass and began toting the little girl around the yard. Calliope screeched with delight and laughed hysterically while Doc, apparently the most docile German Shepherd on earth, passively ignored the death grip around his neck and continued to entertain her.

Today was Spencer's first exposure to home videos. When he was younger, his mother had taken a few videos whose whereabouts were unknown, but after what he now knew was Riley Jenkins' murder Diana's mind begun deteriorating at an even more rapid pace and traditional parenting activities were lost, not that their family had ever truly been normal or traditional in any way. He loved his mom and, as strange as it sounded, he wouldn't change his upbringing. Every memory of his mother reading to him was precious, the few times she'd managed to come to events at school had been replayed in his mind over and over, though, if he were to truly be honest with himself, he did sometimes wished he had grown up in a family like the one he watched onscreen.

The screen switched as Calliope fiddled with the remote and pulled up a new moment in time. She settled back down and snuggled her face closer into the pillow and hugged Burt tighter as four gangly teenagers in emerald green uniforms shifted in their seats across from four more teenagers in red and black uniforms as a woman introduced the students.

"Gregory Thomas, Hannah Ullman, Lucas DePenoint, and Vanessa Wilder for Lawrenceville School of Lawrenceville, New Jersey will be up against Tyler Morse, Stewart Howard, Richard Abbot, and Calliope Sellers from Kingsway Preparatory Academy of Williamsburg, Virginia. We'd like to welcome both teams to D.C. and wish you luck. To those in the audience, please, give these brave students a hand as they represent the best of what our country has to offer." The woman paused briefly and let the audience applaud before she continued.

"Today's topic is nuclear testing. On January twenty-ninth of nineteen ninety-six French President Jacques Chirac announced to the world that France has definitively ended their nuclear testing, making their country the most recent to cease the action. In the next few hours, these students will attempt to sway your opinion on the practice of nuclear testing. Kingsway, Lawrenceville, a representative please."

Calliope stood up and smoothed her green plaid skirt before walking to the speaker where she met a tall, bulky, black haired boy and shook hands.

"State your names."

"Calliope Sellers of Kingsway Preparatory."

"Lucas DePeniont of Lawrenceville School."

"Thank you. As determined at an earlier date, Lawrenceville will call the coin toss. Mr. DePeniont?"

"Heads."

"Tails," the woman looked at the coin after she caught it and turned to Calliope. "Kingsway has won the coin toss and will go first and choose their stance. Miss Sellers, your choice?"

"Kingsway chooses pro. We shall defend the practice of nuclear testing," Calliope's face was steely and resolved against the scattered muttering of surprise at Kingsway choice as she shook Lucas' hand again and walked back to her classmates. The boys had placed two of their four clear, plastic filing boxes on the wood table next to their podium, slide the other two underneath the table and returned to their seats as Calliope took her place behind the podium adorned with Kingsway's crest.

"Kingsway, you have seven minutes and thirty seconds for your introduction. You may begin when you are ready and the time will started as soon as you begin speaking. When you're ready, Miss Sellers."

"In nineteen forty-five on July sixteenth, the United States of America became the first nation to detonate a nuclear weapon. This weapon yielded an estimated twenty kilotons of trinitrotoluene, a chemical compound that will hereafter be referred to as TNT. TNT is the standard measurement of the strength behind an explosive. The explosive yield of a nuclear weapon is measured by the mass of energy discharged when detonated and a kiloton is a thousand tons. On July sixteenth, nineteen forty-five, the United States detonated the first nuclear weapon, an atomic bomb, thirty-five miles south of Socorro, New Mexico. Trinity, the code-name for this testing, was the same conceptual design as Fat Man, the atom bomb detonated above Nagasaki, Japan less than a month later. Trinity released twenty thousand tons of TNT explosive and left behind a crater of mildly radioactive, light green glass, now referred to as _Trinitite_, ten feet deep and one thousand one hundred feet wide. Americans up to a hundred miles away felt the shock wave upon detonation and the resulting mushroom cloud reached a height of seven and a half miles.

"You sit before me wondering why I have chosen to start by relaying this information. It may seem that I misspoke before, that we want to argue against nuclear testing, but that is not so. We will be defending the continuation of nuclear testing. We are not here to debate whether or not nuclear weapons should have been created or whether or not the practice of nuclear testing should have ever been started. That decision was decided for the world forty-two years ago and now our job, and the job of world leaders, is to look to the future of nuclear weaponry and, ultimately, nuclear warfare.

"Trinity's test director, Kenneth Bainbridge, commented to Los Alamos director J. Robert Oppenheimer "Now we are all sons of bitches" after the thrill of a successful detonation wore away and the reality of their situation and what they had begun sunk in. Later, Oppenheimer quoted a line from Bhagavad Gita, a Hindu scripture, that reads "Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds."

"That is where we are now. With the creation of nuclear weapons and the beginning of what we refer to as 'modern warfar,' our world has been thrust into a new and terrifying era our forbearers never imagined. Each nation, each superpower possessing the might of nuclear weapons has become the personification of Death. Each nuclear superpower holds the frightening ability to destroy life in every context and, because of this, the United States can ill afford to cease nuclear testing."

_Ulysses_ sat forgotten in Spencer's lap as he listened and watched. He always knew Calliope was smart, a little spacey and prone to what Derek called 'Blonde Moments', but very intelligent, very well read and learned. He simply hadn't realized quite how smart she truly was. As the debate continued and, as Stewart Howard stood behind Kingsway's podium speaking, Spencer started realizing everything sounded vaguely familiar. Closing his eyes, he listened. A girl from Lawrenceville began speaking and her nasal, gritty voice jolted Spencer back. He'd watched the debate when it was televised live on C-Span. He'd been at CalTech at the time, working on his Ph.D. in chemistry and had watched the debate with Dr. Hermann, his thesis advisor. That's why it was so familiar.

Focusing his eyes again, he studied the screen and those on the screen, slowly remembering. He remembered being impressed with the intelligence, intensity and general ruthlessness riddling the entire debate. Students like these hadn't existed in his high school, except for himself and he had been an exception. Briefly he wondered what high school would have been like for him at a private preparatory academy like Kingsway or Lawrenceville or Phillips or Exeter. Both teams attacked with impressive research and knowledge and used everything they possessed to ensure their opponents would have to fight tooth and nail for the upper hand. Kingsway had a firm grasp on the upper hand, Spencer could tell through both the verbal debate and what he had since learned about human behavior and body language. Lawrenceville was nervous; they could tell Kingsway was steadily gaining ground and pushing past them.

Finally, Calliope got up a third time to deliver Kingsway's closing statement two and a half hours after she had delivered their introduction and Spencer simply watched her, the confidence she had behind the podium, the conviction with which she addressed both the opposing team, the couple hundred audience members in the auditorium and those watching on television.

Spencer felt slightly strange being attracted to a teenage Calliope even though he was dating her now. He thought she was beautiful despite the general awkward stage she was in the middle of. Shiny braces rimmed her teeth and her legs, encased in black tights and ending in saddle shoes, were long and gangly, reminding him of the foals that had been finding their legs the last time he'd been at Dahlia to speak to Ben. Her hair was just as curly, but more than a foot shorter and sans the abnormal colours were that now mixed in. She had fewer freckles dusting her nose.

"Look at our little girl, Ben," Brenda's voice was hushed, but bursting with pride as she whispered behind the camera.

"She's pretty damn smart, isn't she?" Spencer could hear the smile in Ben's voice even though the camera was zoomed in on Calliope.

"Hey. Dr. Reid?" Ross stuck his head in the door and startled Spencer when he spoke. "We're done. Do you want to come check it out?

"I…" Spencer looked at Calliope, but she made no effort to move or even acknowledge the contractor. "I don't know how much good I'll do, but sure. Let me grab my shoes and I'll be out in a second."

Ross nodded and closed the door, pulling his hood back up over his head and running down the steps into the rain. A few minutes later, Spencer followed after him, getting thoroughly soaked before he made it into the red and white barn. The exterior had been finished a week ago and the contractor and carpenters had been working on the interior since. Everything looked precisely the way Calliope drew it when she and Ross planned its' construction months ago, not that he would have been able to tell if something was off.

"It looks great," he told them, taking in the six stalls and the area for tact and feed and the things Calliope would understand miles better than he would. Mark and Joseph would be here tomorrow with Esther and Adella as well as everything with which the barn would need to be stocked. Never had he imagined, in any universe, that he would one day be living a hundred yards from a barn with horses, but Calliope missed her thoroughbreds and so he would have to grow accustomed to the animals.

By the time Spencer had found the final checks for the crew, they left, and he returned to his chair, Calliope was watching a new video. He smiled when he saw what was playing and glanced at his girlfriend, who actually had a hint of a smile on her face while she watched. Turning back to the television, he grinned. Calliope and Jill both wore emerald green graduation gowns and Calliope was fixing Jill's collar. Spencer hadn't gone to his graduation ceremony. He had been the valedictorian, of course, but had no desire to attend the ceremony and speak before a group of people he honestly never wanted to see again. He had picked up his diploma and never looked back.

"Okay, Callie," Ben's voice was loud in the speakers. He must have been holding the camera. "Explain what all the accolades are for."

Calliope stared at him and rolled her eyes. "Grandpa, you know what they're for. Why do I have to explain? And why are you videotaping this? Put the camera down!"

"Grandpa! I look terrible! Don't!" Jill turned her head away from the camera and Ben started laughing.

"What are you talking about? Both my girls look gorgeous."

"I have a zit!" Jill protested.

"You can't see it, J. It's completely covered. Thank God for Clinique," Calliope handed Jill a few cords and she slipped them over her shoulders.

"Come on, Callie. Tell the camera what everything's for."

"If I play along will you stop?" Calliope was halfway between laughter and exasperation when she turned back to the camera. Ben must have nodded off camera because she sighed in a resigned sort of way. "Pay attention because I'm only doing this once. This one, the big one that reads "President," is because I was student body president. Big shock! I don't think anyone would have ever figured that one out."

"Cut the sarcasm."

"Fine. The gold cord is for graduating with top honours. The white cord is for community service. The freakishly elaborate diamond-shaped collar thingie is for graduating on the classical tract and the –"

"What's the classical tract?"

"Grandpa!"

"Callie!"

"You're ridiculous," Calliope shook her head. "It means I studied a foreign language, Italian, all four years, I've completed the studies in Classical Greek and Latin, and I got a four or higher on at least seven AP tests."

"It means she's a classic over achiever," Jill snarked and rolled her eyes as she straightened her cap over her brown hair.

"Jill."

"Grandpa."

"Callie."

"Fred."

"Barney."

"Wiiiiilma!"

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous, you two," Ben sighed and Spencer started laughing, startling Calliope over on the couch and making Perses perk up and jump to the floor. Perses barked a few times before bounding over to Spencer and pawing at his knees until Spencer picked him up.

"Bam-Bam?"

"Jill."

"Sorry.

"Callie, come on. Finish telling me about everything."

"Okay. But only because I love you. Where did we stop?"

"You just explained the classical tract."

"Oh. Okay. Um… The diamond collar thing is for the classical tract and the gold rim around it means I am one of the top ten graduates."

"What was that, Callie? I don't think the camera got that."

Giggling, Calliope shook her head and smiled. "The gold rim means I'm one of the top ten."

"Where in the top ten are you?"

"I am number six."

"That's right, ladies and gentleman, my baby girl is number six." Spencer smiled at the way Ben bragged to the camera and ignored Perses chewing, drooling, on the edge of his shirt. The poor thing was breaking in several adult teeth at once and Spencer couldn't bring himself to make the dog stop. "Student body president, top honours, community service, the classical tract and number six in the class. And she worked for every single bit of it. Okay. Jill. You're up."

"Grandpa, I didn't bend over backwards and beat myself into the ground like Callie did. I've actually slept the past four years."

"You have awards and I want them documented."

Jill turned to Calliope and deadpanned, but Calliope just grinned and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm related to him, Jilly. I'm stuck with him forever and ever and ever. You, on the other hand, you choose him, therefore, you did this to yourself. I have no sympathy."

"Come on, Jill."

"Okay, Grandpa. Just a second." Despite her protesting, Spencer could tell Jill enjoyed Ben's attention and love. "Okay. The silver cord is for honours and the white cord is for community service. The big one that reads "Vice President" is because I was the student body vice president."

"Thank you. I'll ignore the sarcasm in that last bit, young lady."

"Picture time!" Brenda came into view, flanked by the Greggs, the Bertons and Keely. "Ben, put down the camera!"

"No. I want this on tape."

"Grandpa, are you really going to tape us taking pictures?" Calliope was walking towards the camera.

"Yup."

"Then how are you going to be in the pictures?" The camera jumbled around as she took the recorder from him and it steadied again when Calliope put it down on what Spencer assumed was a tripod and she dragged Ben by the hand towards the chaos. "Come on, Grandpa. Relinquish the camera just for a little while. It's my graduation and I want you in the pictures."

Spencer watched the chaos for a little while before getting up to let Perses out into the backyard. He was pouring himself a cup of coffee and waiting for Perses to want to come back inside when the home phone rang. Perplexed, he looked at the callerID. People rarely called on the landline and right now the callerID read 'unknown caller' instead of a name and number.

"Hello?"

_ "Hi. You must be Spencer. Is Callie there? She's not answering her cell phone."_

"Yes, this is Spencer. Who is this?"

_ "Oh! Sorry. Manners elude me when I'm excited. This is Jill. Jill Ackerman. Callie's sister, sort of." _

"Oh. Hello."

_ "Hi." Neither one said anything for a few seconds before Jill started laughing. "Okay. This is ridiculous. It's nice to meet you, Spencer. Or at least speak to you. Welcome to the nuthouse."_

"Thank you. It's nice to meet you too. Let me, uh… Let me see if Calliope's here." Spencer didn't like lying to her, but he wasn't sure what Jill knew about Calliope's recent behavior. "She might have stepped out."

_ "Right, the barn's being built this week, isn't it? I haven't talked to her, or anybody stateside, in a month. We had a TB outbreak and then mosquito infestation in a several of our water sources. I miss her."_

"Is everything back under control?"

_ "As under control as the universe will allow it to be. Callie please?"_

"I'm working on it. I'm going to put the phone down for a second." Without waiting for a response, Spencer put the phone down on the counter and walked back to where Calliope cuddled with Burt. Burt was getting a lot of use lately, Spencer realized and frowned a little. "Sweetheart? Jill's on the phone for you."

"I'm not here." Her voice was soft and hoarse from lack of use and Spencer sat down on the edge of the couch.

"Calliope, you haven't talked to her in ages." Spencer tried to take her hand, but she pulled away. "Maybe talking to her will help, Sweetheart. She's your sister. This call must be costing a fortune so there has to be something she really wants to tell you."

"I'm not here."

Spencer bit the inside of his cheek against what he wanted to say to her and stood up, walking back to the phone. "Jill? She's not here. I'll tell her you called, alright?"

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, including several "tell her to call me back no matter what time it is over here" before the phone was rested back in its cradle. Spencer let Perses back inside, not noticing his sopping fur or the puddles he trailed across the hardwood. Spencer was too busy thinking while he leaned against the wall and watched Calliope. His patience had begun to wear thin. Taking one last long look at her, he turned and walked towards Calliope's office to do what he had wanted to do for a while: make a doctors appointment.

Refusing Jill's phone call tipped the scale and it was time he acted whether she wanted him to or not. Shuffling through her desk, he searched for the address book he knew lay in here somewhere. It wasn't in the desk. Turning, he scanned the bookshelf, trying to spot the bright yellow book, until he saw it down at the bottom. It was bigger than he remembered and he pulled it from the shelf, knocking over a file hidden behind as he did so.

Picking up the file and shifting back the pages that had jumbled, Spencer saw a face he knew quite well but wasn't expecting.

Lila.

Concerned, he dropped the address book onto the desk with a thud and opened the file to leaf through the pages. It held general information about Lila, her career… it looked as if it were simply a print off of a Wikipedia page and a few articles from unaccredited online sites. Is this was everything was about? Had Lila called again? He had never called her to apologize for the way he spoke to her several months ago and figured that would be the last of any contact between her life and his.

Spencer flipped through the page's corners and read the dates the pages were printed. Calliope hated reading things on the computer. She preferred to find what she wanted, print it out and then read, despite Penelope's vehement protests that she would single handedly destroy the rainforest by printing everything out. Every single page had been printed the day after Lila's ill-fated call. And, judging by the bit of dust clinging to the tip of the file, it hadn't been touched in a very long time.

He slipped the file back where it had been hidden, purposefully or accidently, and refocused on the task he had initially set in here for. He didn't leave the office until he'd made two appointments for her on the upcoming Wednesday morning, one with her regular doctor, Dr. Davis, followed by one with Dr. Michaels. He'd take her himself if he had to, but, by choice or force, she'd be at those appointments.

Perses excited barking drew him from the office and he heard Penelope's familiar voice yelling out a greeting. In two hours their house had turned into a train station.

Great. Now he'd have to tell Calliope he'd made appointments for her while Penelope was here. But, maybe, this would be good. Maybe she'd be more reasonable if Penelope agreed with him, maybe she'd listen to reason.

"Calliope Sellers!" Penelope had seen her, Spencer could tell by the mix of shock and anger lacing her voice that she had seen how skinny she was now. "I know you can't cook, but I thought your dialing finger worked."

She was taking pots and pans out of cupboards when Spencer warily walked into the kitchen and, after being pulled into a bone-crushing hug, asked how she'd gotten in.

"I used my key."

"You have a key?"

"I had one made."

"You had one made?"

"Are you going to repeat everything I said, Reid?" Penelope cocked her head a bit and stared at him.

"You had a key made."

"Yes."

"You had a key to our house made without asking."

"Can we play another game now?"

"Why?"

"Because this one's getting old, Reid."

"No. I mean, why did you have a key made?" Penelope's smile disappeared and she looked at Calliope. Spencer followed her gaze.

"I'm worried about her," she looked back to Spencer. "I was afraid something might happen while you guys were away. The closest person with a key is in Williamsburg. I just wanted to be prepared. She's lost a lot of weight."

"I'm taking her to the doctor on Wednesday. I just made an appointment."

"I don't need to go to the doctor," Calliope protested meekly from the couch.

"Really?" Spencer scoffed and took a few steps until he stood in her line of sight, "You've had a panic attack so severe you threw up. Your current weight terrifies me. You barely eat. You lie around all day. You haven't painted. You turned down talking to Jill. And you're severely depressed."

"I am not depressed!"

Finally. A reaction. A real reaction he would actually accept coming from her. It was a lie, he knew, but there was anger behind her outburst. Some semblance of emotion.

"Like hell you're not! You had to burn a new copy of _Ladies Love Oracle_ because you broke the original. The couch has a permanent indentation of your side. Calliope, I'm not a moron. I know something's wrong."

"Leave me alone."

"No."

"Leave me alone, Spencer."

"No. You are going to listen to me, damn it. Calliope, this is dangerous. I'm not going to let you destroy yourself. Especially not for a reason that I don't even know!"

"I'm fine."

"You are not 'fine,' Calliope. You are as far from 'fine' as it is physically possible to be."

"Stop it!" She hissed as she chucked the remote at him.

"What's so terrible that you can't even tell me? What could possibly be that bad? I love you. And I know you like to think you're tough and nothing can hurt you, but I know you and I know you're hurting. I know something's wrong and if you let me in, it won't be as bad. I'm supposed to be the one you lean on, Calliope. I'm supposed to be the one you turn to when you don't think you can turn to anyone."

"Stop it. Spencer, just stop it. I don't want to talk about anything. Nothing is wrong with me and I don't want your help."

"Well, your body is screaming the opposite message. Your body is screaming 'I need help' and you have to stop being so damn stubborn and actually listen to it or you're going to kill yourself!"

"Get out. Get out."

"No."

"Spencer –"

"No. This is why both of our names are on the title to the house, remember? So neither one of us can tell the other to get out."

"Leave me alone!"

"I'm not going to let you kill yourself through neglect."

"Reid," Penelope tugged on his arm and pulled him back to the kitchen. "Reid, calm down."

"Did I say anything untrue?" Spencer foamed, still angry, his patience barely wire thin.

"No, but, Reid… Lucy is a lot more fragile than she allows people to see. Than she let's herself think she is. You know that. She pretends she can handle anything and hates admitting it when she can't. Why don't you leave for a while?"

"You're kicking me out of my house?"

"No," Penelope smiled in an appeasing manor she lead him towards the garage door. "I'm saying, why don't you go out for a while and do something. I'll stay with Luce."

"I don't want to go anywhere."

"Yes, you do."

"Not really. It's still raining."

"Reid, I promise. You want to go."

"Give me a good reason. A solid reason besides 'trust me.'"

"If you leave, I actually stand a chance of getting her to talk. With you here, forget it."

"You already know what's wrong and you won't tell me."

"Reid, please. Go to The Hobbit Hole or something."

"Fine."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Dr. Reid?"

Spencer looked up from the letter he was writing to his mother to see a teenager standing timidly a few feet away. He knew this girl. He knew her black hair and blue eyes. Her Joan Jett t-shirt, red Chuck Taylors, torn-up jeans. The long sleeves of the red shirt she worn under t-shirt where pushed up and her hands were dotted with paint the way he had so often seen Calliope's. But the lacerations on her arms in various states of healing were unique to this girl, Julie Masen.

"Hello, Julie." Julie saw his gaze and pushed her sleeves down to cover the cuts, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "How are you?"

"I'm okay. Is Miss Calliope coming back any time soon? She hasn't been here in a long time. They canceled all the classes. I mean, the studio's still open, but she's not there."

"I don't know when she's coming back. I'm sorry."

"Has… has she painted anything?"

"No. She hasn't," Spencer studied her for a few seconds before speaking again. "Are you alright, Julie?"

"I… I just miss her. She was the only one I could talk to."

"You can talk to me if you'd like." Focusing on something else, someone else, would be a welcome change and he watched her debate with herself. The girl seemed to desperately want to talk to someone, but, at the same time, be uneasy about talking to a stranger.

Without warning, the girl dropped onto the chair across the table from him and started to talk. Spencer put down his pen and listened, giving the girl his full attention. She talked about nothing and everything and he had to shift through and discern the important from the irrelevant.

The psychopathy of teenagers truly was fascinating. Every detail, every small action could be turned from the drop of a pebble to an avalanche of boulders set out to destroy them and rocks that were indeed boulders seemed immovable and insurmountable.

They talked for a half hour before a tall teenage boy came looking for her, saying their mom was outside with the car and Spencer returned to his letter, his mind full of Diana, Calliope, Lila, Julie, Penelope.

Oscar Wilde was right. Women were complicated, nearly impossible to understand, and all man would do was love her.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"I saw Brianne and Julie at The Hobbit Hole," Spencer said to Calliope after Penelope had left and he cleaned up after his late lunch, tossing the empty bread bag into the trash and putting his dishes into the sink.

"They said to say hello and tell you they miss you."

Calliope listened; he could see her eyes flashing with interest as she bounced a disgustingly slobber-coated tennis ball down the hallway towards the garage and Perses bounded after it.

"Brianne said she actually missed fighting with you over the filing system. Said it's not as much fun moving things around if you're not there to, as she put it, 'flip shit.' She and Lauren purchased a whole load of new books. They were inventorying them while I was there. A few looked interesting. I think I'll read them when they're on the shelves. Oh. And she gave me something to give to you. I left it in the car. I'll be right back."

He watched her lift her head slightly, curiously, before he walked past Perses and his tennis ball to the garage. He came back quickly with a leather bound book in hand and gave it to Calliope, sitting next to her while she opened it carefully.

The first several pages were covered in children's handwriting, drawings and various versions of "we miss you" and "feel better soon," followed by longer messages from preteens and teenagers. The back pages were filled with long letters from adults, Brianne, Lauren, Frank the bartender from Capital Ale House, Ashley the barista from Hyperion Espresso, Melanie the cashier, parents and other business owners.

He had read it before driving home. The book contained over five hundred different handwriting donations, five hundred sixty three to be exact, and he'd been astounded to see how this town loved her. This book was an impressive outpour of love and it contained only those in Fredericksburg, nothing from Williamsburg, or Washington and Lee, Florence, Carnegie Mellon, or the wealthy society members scattered along Virginia and D.C. that appeared so often in her life.

She didn't protest when he leaned over and kissed her forehead and he was glad of that. Perhaps Penelope's visit had done some good. She responded to stimuli now; he'd even heard her talking with the other woman, almost sounding like herself, when he'd come in. They'd been talking about Penelope's recent switch to red hair and Penelope commented that Calliope's needed a trim and to re-dye the purple, green and blue. An inch and a half of red root showed and the vegetable dye that had once been blue and purple was now faded to ashen shades of grey.

Spencer left her with the book as he made his way to the bathroom. He hated the way the seeds from the rye bread stuck in his teeth, though he had long since gotten used to the taste of rye. Grabbing his toothbrush, he flipped the top of the toothpaste and frowned when he realized it had finally been completely emptied. He thought he had another brushings worth of paste in the tube, but apparently he miscalculated.

Tossing the empty tube into the bin, Spencer pulled open a drawer and dug through the mishmash contents trying to find the fresh tube he knew was hidden in one of these drawers. The second drawer he opened yielded nothing and, just as he was about to give up on the third and yell for Calliope to tell him where it was, his fingers closed around a promising box buried in the very back.

Pulling the box out triumphantly, Spencer was taken aback when he saw that the box he had believed was toothpaste most definitely did not contain anything he wanted to put in his mouth. He stared at the E·P·T Pregnancy Test box he held in his hand, completely in shock. It took him a few seconds before he realized the box was open and tipped the two unwrapped sticks into his hand.

Positive.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello friends! Life's been interesting since we last talked. I'm all moved into my new apartment, though my back and knees are killing them. Second story is good in the long run, but not so good for the actual moving process. Up and down and back and forth and up and down. Oy, all I needed was some funny circus music. Haha. Little brother is doing great, thanks to everyone who wished him well!**

**Everything has been resolved and I am thankful to the person for understanding and being compassionate and respectful. (S)he is truly a good person and I hope we can continue being friends. That's all I will ever say on the issue again. As far as I'm concerned, it's over and the past and no more good can come from looking to it. All we can do is learn from the past and continue forward, wallowing in and regretting the past simply prevents us from enjoying the present.**

**Anyways ~ HOOOO SHIT! What's happening now? D:**

**I hope you enjoyed it and tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love you all,**

**Thalia**

**P.S. Add me on Facebook! Me, not Calliope. Twitter - Calliope, Facebook - Thalia. :D**


	35. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Loving can cost a lot but not loving always costs more, and those who fear to love often find that want of love is an emptiness that robs the joy from life." – Merle Shain_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

10 April 2010

Taking in a deep breath, he had to drop the box and grab the counter to remain upright. Stunned, Spencer shakily lowered himself to the ground and sat on the cold tile floor, leaned heavily against the wall and stared at the pregnancy tests in his hand.

Calliope's pregnant?

"Oh my God."

He was going to be a dad? A biological, diaper-changing, lullaby singing, the-baby-might-have-his-eyes dad. How long had she known? When was she going to tell him?

He needed to breathe.

Spencer leaned his head back and breathed a few slow breaths and tried to slow the thoughts racing through his minds so he'd be able to unscramble what his thoughts long enough to figure out _what _he was thinking. So much about this made no absolutely sense.

Emeline. How were they going to tell Emeline?

Pulling the ever-present picture of his little girl out of his pocket, he studied her toothy smile, happy brown eyes, crinkly brown pigtails. Emeline sat in Calliope's lap holding the gold-painted wooden star he'd given her in one hand and clutching Perses' bright purple collar with the other. He had been holding the camera and she'd been in the middle of saying 'Poppy' when he'd snapped the picture. Spencer liked it that way; it made it seem as if she were still a few feet in front of him waiting for him to come pick her up.

He groped in his pocket for his phone and hit the 'nine' button, the button that would call Emeline's phone, before holding it to his ear and waited. Marie, the nanny he and Calliope had hired to help Chanté care for Emeline, answered and he listened to her update him for a few minutes before asking to speak to Emeline.

"_Poppy?"_

Emeline's voice was breathy and excited when she said his name and he smiled, feeling a sense of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest knowing nothing had happened to her since he talked to her yesterday.

"Hey, Princess," Spencer smiled into the phone and closed his eyes. "How's my baby girl? I miss you, Eme."

"_I miss you, Poppy. When are you coming home?"_

"Maman and I are going to come see you in June, remember? Do you remember how many months it is from April to June?"

"_Too many."_

"I know, Princess. Two months is way too many, but I couldn't get away from work until then."

"_Tell me about work again, Poppy."_

"You don't want to hear about that," Spencer smiled and shook his head.

"_Yes, I do!"_

"You sure?"

"_Yeah!"_

"Alright. If you're sure. What do you want to hear?"

"_Matant and Totò!"_

"Your aunts and uncles?" Spencer tried not to laugh. Emeline had seen a picture of the team on Calliope's computer and had instantly become fascinated. She had fixated on them and loved to hear stories.

He told her two stories, one about when Kevin tried to send Penelope flowers for her birthday, but the florist had made a mistake and sent her a bouquet with a note saying "congratulations on the new job!" and the resulting mess that the mix up caused and a second about the time J.J. was waiting in the round table room with baby Henry when the team returned after a case.

Spencer listened happily to Emeline talking about the adventure she and Yva had had on her tricycle this morning, down to the slug Yva had decided to keep as a pet and promptly squashed when she forgot she'd put the slub in her pocket and the scraped palm Emeline had gotten when she fell off the Yva's papa's swing set. Yva's papa was the centaur from next door. He explained the difference between a centaur and a senator for Emeline one more time and told her that, yes, he loved the drawing she'd sent him and he had hung it up in his office at home.

"_Poppy?"_

"Yes, Princess?"

"_When will Maman be Maman again?"_

"What do you mean, Eme?"

"_Maman's sad. She's happy, but her eyes are sad, like Gogo's eyes. She doesn't send pictures anymore. She draweded me pictures all the time, but not anymore."_

"Don't worry about Maman, Princess. I'll get her better, okay? She'll be okay soon. I have a feeling she'll be Maman again really soon," Spencer looked down at the pregnancy tests resting on his thigh and let himself think briefly of the little girl with red curls who so often haunted his dreams. Thinking of his dream girl, his little Bailey, he felt a harsh pain in his chest when he knew, though he might get his Bailey, he still wouldn't have his Emeline, his little Princess. As selfish as he felt for thinking it, he knew, if he could, he'd do practically anything to have his little girl running around the house or riding her tricycle in the yard, to fall asleep on the couch with her, teach her her ABCs or tuck her in at night after reading her one of the fairytales she loved and checking for monsters in the closet.

"_Good. Emeline doesn't like sad Maman."_

"Poppy doesn't like sad Maman either." How had this three-year-old girl invaded his life, his heart, so quickly? How had she become one of the three single most important people in his life in less than an hour? The moment he looked down and realized she'd fallen asleep in his arms, no more than six hours after he'd first met her, he knew he was hers for the rest of his life.

The hands on his watch showed four thirty by the time he and Emeline ended their phone call after a round of 'no, I love you more,' 'naw-uh, I love _you_ more.' She had the strange ability to turn him into the child he'd never truly been.

Spencer held the phone for a little while, thinking, before he slipped it back into his pocket and picked the pregnancy tests up off his thigh. Calliope definitely wasn't showing yet, so he reasoned she wasn't too far along yet. About three months was his best calculation, so she was either just about out of the first trimester or had just started the second. That made sense. The first two months, the baby was an embryo, so there wasn't anything to show and the third month, the fetus was just beginning to grow.

But, then, Calliope was so skinny, wouldn't any mass growing inside her have been noticeable to him? The fetus had no fat cushion to hide behind in Calliope's abdomen. He should have noticed, at least in the last few weeks once the fetus had developed. But Calliope _was_ little and he, though he was tall, was very thin, his father was rather small, at least for a man. Calliope's mother had been little like Calliope, so had Ben's mother. Maybe their baby was simply too small to show yet, despite how thin Calliope was.

Spencer needed to get her to the doctor now more than ever. Maybe he should call back and see if they had an opening before Wednesday. Was she taking prenatal vitamins? He hadn't seen any new bottles in the bathroom, but he really never looked, just grabbed what he needed and closed the medicine cabinet. He never studied the cabinet's contents before, never had a reason to.

Standing up, he opened the cabinet and rooted around, but came up empty. There was nothing in there to suggest she was on any prenatal medicine. In fact, there was nothing at all that a gynecologist would have prescribed besides a half-used packet of Yaz. Making a mental note to go pick up vitamins, he closed the cabinet.

Looking back at the tests in his hand, he could feel himself getting upset, getting angry. She wasn't taking care of herself and that was bad enough, but she wasn't taking care of their child. Their child couldn't take care of itself. It needed Calliope to take care of it by taking care of herself. She wasn't just starving herself – she was starving their baby. She hadn't told him. She was at least three months pregnant and she hadn't told him.

He shook his head and picked up the box from the ground, walking out of the bathroom, through their bedroom to the living room where Calliope sat on the couch with the book still in her lap. He leaned against the wall, watching silently for a bit as she read and absently tossed the tennis ball for Perses, waited until he came back, took the slobbery ball from him and then threw it again.

Pushing off, Spencer walked to where she could see him and, before she could say anything, he held up the box. She paled visibly.

"When were you going to tell me?"

"Spencer, I –"

"Were you going to tell me? Were you just going to wait until I figured it out?"

"Spencer –"

"I mean, I would have found out eventually. This isn't exactly something you could keep from me forever. Is this why you've been so depressed? Do you not want to be pregnant? I thought… I don't know, seeing you with Eme and Jack, I thought you wanted kids."

"Spencer, please –"

"No, Calliope, you're pregnant. You have to take care of yourself; our baby needs you to take care of yourself. Not taking care of or feeding yourself is one thing, but –"

"I'm not pregnant, Spencer." Calliope blurted out, biting her bottom lip and looking away from him. "There's no baby."

"You… you got rid of our child?" Spencer felt like he'd been slugged in the stomach with a baseball bat. He couldn't form a complete thought, which had never happened to him. Nothing had ever stopped him so dead in his shoes that he couldn't complete a thought. He sometimes thought too fast to be fully conscious of everything he thought, but he'd never in his life not been able to think. "You didn't even… you didn't even talk to me about it. You didn't even tell me. You just…"

"Spencer…"

"I've… I've, um…" Spencer blinked and dropped the box onto the table before turning around walking towards the foyer. He barely registered the noise of Calliope dropping the book with a thud and scrambling after him, Perses barking excitedly.

"Spencer, wait!"

"I have to get out of here. I need to… I need to think. I can't think. I can't think here. I need…" Grabbing his keys, he walked out the front door and walked through the puddle this mornings rain had left to his car as quickly as his knee would let him. He could hear her running after him as he slipped into the rundown car and rubbed his temples with his hand. Turning the key in the ignition, he let the car rumble to life and backed out of the driveway, careful not to looking at Calliope crying on the pavement.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

She sat in the driveway long after the Volvo had disappeared from the service road to their secluded home and her bottom had become soaked through from the wet ground, just sobbing and wishing he would come back. Unable to fully see through her tears and puffy eyes, Calliope stumbled back into the house, followed the halls to their bedroom, and crawled under the covers of their bed. She buried her face in Spencer's pillow and smacked her hand on the bedside table until she connected with the button that closed the blackout blinds.

And just lay in the dark and cried her heart out.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Reid? What are you doing here?" Aaron asked, concerned, as he took in the worn expression and blood shot eyes of his young friend.

"I – I need to… I, um – I need to talk. Do you have a couple minutes?" Spencer stood outside the door pacing and fiddling with the keychain on his keys.

Aaron didn't offer a verbal answer; rather, he stood aside and let Spencer into the apartment. After waving hello to Jack, who sat watching cartoons in the living room, Spencer resumed pacing and fidgeting until Aaron handed him a glass of scotch.

"Thanks."

"Jack, Dr. Reid and I are going to go talk in my office. That's where I'll be if you need me, ok?"

"Ok, Daddy."

When the door was closed behind them, Aaron kept quiet, giving the younger man time to start. He'd seen his friend worried and upset, terrified, but never quite like this – this was a mixture of pure panic and devastation. About what, he didn't know.

Spencer stared at the painting of Aaron, Haley and Jack that hung on the opposite end of the room, the painting with Calliope's signature drawn with the style of Japanese calligraphy in the bottom right hand corner in her trademark silver paint. He'd seen her paint that sign at least fifty times, he could see the way her fingers flexed, the subtle movement of her wrist, the twitching of muscle in her arm as the design took shape with a few deliberate strokes.

"Calliope… she's…" Spencer started and stopped, shaking his head before starting again. "Calliope's pregnant. I got her pregnant."

Sensing there was more to this than that announcement, Aaron waited for him to continue instead of giving the congratulations instinct prompted.

"Shit, I got her pregnant, Hotch." Spencer ran a hand over his face before turning blood shot eyes on Aaron. "What am I even doing with her? I mean, seriously? I don't belong with her. She doesn't belong with me. I don't know what to do in her world. Every time I go with her to a function I can feel people staring at me wondering why the hell I'm there. Brenda hates me. Calliope should be with someone from her world, someone Brenda approves of, someone from an old Southern family with more money than God. Not some awkward FBI agent who doesn't have a clue."

"Well, whether or not you think you should be with her, she's carrying your son or daughter now. You have a responsibility – to her and to your baby."

"No, I don't."

"What?" Aaron stared at him, startled.

"I don't _have_ any responsibility. She doesn't need or what my help making any decisions. That, she's made pretty damn clear."

"You're going to abandon your child?" Aaron watched, incredulous. He'd known him for six years and had never heard Spencer say anything so rash. If he heard this second hand, he would have laughed at whoever told him. The last thing he would ever have expected of Spencer was for him to abandon his child the way his father had abandoned him.

"Calliope – she… she had an abortion. She got rid of our child without even telling me she was pregnant. She didn't give me a choice. I only know now because I accidently found two positive pregnancy tests she'd hidden in the back of a drawer when I was looking for a new thing of toothpaste. She didn't even tell me!

"Why would she have an abortion? Abortions are so unbelievably dangerous. They have over a hundred possible complications. Internal bleeding, chronic abdominal pain, infection, fevers, endotoxic shock, convulsions, Rh sensitization, cervical laceration. Twenty seven percent of women who have abortion get an infection that lasts for three or more days. Three to five percent become sterile as a result of abortion and they're at a three to four percent higher risk of secondary infertility. A-a-a, uh, a doctor could accidently puncture the bladder or intestines when they perforate the uterus."

"Reid –"

"They can cause horrible effects on subsequent pregnancies. Having an abortion raises the premature birth risks from thirty percent to five hundred and ten percent. Five hundred and ten! More importantly then that is low birth weight. If a woman has an abortion they're more likely to give birth to an infant with a low birth weight and, when you combine chronic low birth weight to begin with and premature birth obviously lowers the weight more. A child who weights less than fifteen hundred grams at birth can have cerebral palsy at a rate thirty eight times greater than the general population of infants."

"Reid –"

"She could – she could have hemorrhaged and, if that happened, could have then contracted Hepatitis. Scientists think abortions might cause breast cancer farther on in life. The number of cases of breast cancer in the U.S. has increased by fifty percent since abortion was legalized. Hotch, she barely _has _breasts to begin with! She's tiny. _All_ of her is tiny. If the scientists turn out to be right and she gets breast cancer, it would spread beyond her breasts to other parts of her body quickly."

"Reid, calm down," Aaron told him, shoving a bottle of water into his hands. "Spencer. Spencer! You're hyperventilating. Here, sit down. Have some water. You're going to give yourself a panic attack. Take a few deep breaths and calm down."

"I love her, Hotch," Spencer moaned, his voice soft and deeply pained.

"I know you do."

"Why would she do this?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"He's not with you. Ok, thanks anyways, Emily. Hmm? Oh, I don't know. I'll find out when I find him. Thanks, Emily. I'll talk to you later."

Calliope hit the end button and took another sip of her espresso before finding the next person in her phone's contact list. Hitting the send button, she held the phone to her ear and waited until the call was answered as she navigated the I–Ninety-Five towards Quantico, Washington more specifically.

"Hey, Pen. It's me. Is Spencer with you?"

_ "Nope. I haven't seen Wonder Boy since I left. Why? What's up?"_

"We had a fight. Well, sort of."

_"About the –"_

"Yes, about that."

_ "Did you tell him or did he find out?"_

"He found out."

_"You should have told him when it happened."_

"I know, you're right, but how exactly do you tell someone something like that? Especially Spencer?"

_ "I dunno, Luce. I've never had to deliver that particular news to anyone. Do you think it's going to be ok? You and Reid, I mean."_

"I hope so. He didn't let me say anything and then he just left."

_ "He loves you. He'll come back when he cools down. He probably just needs to think. You know how he likes to do the whole thinking thing. I think it's highly overrated at times, but I can't seem to convince him of it."_

Calliope gave a noncommittal response and took another sip of espresso. "Thanks, Pen. I needed that. I'm going to call Derek and see if Spencer's there."

"_Kay. Keep me updated, ok?"_

"Will do. In a while, crocodile."

_ "See ya later, alligator."_

It was mere seconds before Calliope was listening to ringing again and waiting for the phone to be answered.

_"Hey there, Cal. How's my favourite Toothpick? I haven't heard from you in a month."_

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm better. I've snapped out of it. But, I'm not too hot. From the tone of your voice, I take it Spencer isn't with you."

_ "No, he's not. What's going on?"_

"Call Pen. She can explain. I need to call Hotch and see if Spencer's with him. I've already talked to Pen, Emily, J.J. and Dave. He's not with them. So Hotch is my last bet. If he's not with Hotch, I don't know where he is. Call Ethel and she'll fill you in on the sordid details of the latest rock and hard place Lucy's wedge herself between."

_ "You're ok though, right?"_

"Yeah, I'm ok. I'll be better once I talk to Ricky and hash this all out."

_"Alright. Don't do anything stupid."_

"When do I ever? Don't answer that."

_ "Bye, Lucy."_

"Bye, Fred."

Three calls to Hotch's cell proved unsuccessful until she called the home phone.

"Hey there, Jack Attack."

_"Hi, Aunt Callie."_

"What are you up to, Sweetie?"

_ "Watching tv and playing with my Legos. I'm building a really big tower! It's bigger than me."_

"That's amazing! Jack, is your dad around?"

_ "He's in his office talking with Uncle Spencer."_

"Okay. Thanks, Jack Attack. I'm going to be there in half an hour – one cartoon. When I do our knock, can you let me in?"

_ "Yes."_

"Thanks, Jack. I'll see you soon, okay?"

_"Bye, Aunt Callie."_

"Bye, Jack. I love you."

_"I love you too, Aunt Callie."_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Damn, are you serious, García?" Derek reached into his fridge and pulled out two root beers, one for him and one for Penelope. Closing the door with his foot, he turned and walked into the living room where he'd left her.

"I can't believe I've never been to your house before," Penelope took the root beer from him and looked around.

"Not a lot of people come to my house," Derek shrugged as if it didn't matter and looked at the picture frame Penelope had picked up.

"Because of…" she trailed off, gesturing around the room with the unopened bottle.

Derek nodded and eased the picture frame from her hand and put it back in its place, shifting it a few inches until it stood in precisely the place it had been before Penelope picked it up.

"You never told me. I thought we were friends," Penelope's eyes were hurt and Derek filled with guilt for keeping this from her.

"We are friends, Baby Girl. You're my best friend," he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed her temple.

"No. Best friends tell each other things like this, Derek. Hell, _friends_ tell each other things like this. Neighbours know things like this about their neighbours. We're just co-workers; you and I are just acquaintances who flirt a lot."

"García, please don't. Don't read that much into this."

"What am I supposed to read into this? I mean, this is a big chuck of information. This is a whole mess of important. And you didn't tell me. I thought we told each other everything."

"I don't tell anybody about this part of my life, Baby Girl. Hotch knows because it was in my personnel folder, but no one else on the team knows."

"Does your mom know?" García looked down to see an orange tabby cat purring and rubbing itself against her legs. Looking at Derek for permission, she waited until he nodded to reach down and pick the cat up. "You're pretty, little lady. I thought you only had Clooney. What's this girl's name?"

"Her name's Crookshanks. And yes, of course my mom and sisters know."

"Crookshanks? Like from _Harry Potter_?"

"Yeah. Like from _Harry Potter_."

"I didn't know you were a _Harry Potter_ fan," Penelope frowned and looked down at the cat.

"I'm not. I mean, I like _Harry Potter_, but I wouldn't say I'm a fan. I've read the books and watched the movies, but… yeah. Anyways, Crookshanks was her name when I got her. Her previous owner named her."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"About my cat?"

"No, I mean, about all of this," Penelope gestured around the room again.

"I don't talk about this, Baby Girl. I just don't. It's nothing personal and it has nothing to do with whether or not I consider you a friend, because, as far as I'm concerned, you _are_ my best friend. I just _don't_ talk about it. Ever. With anyone. My mom and my sisters have stopped trying to bring it up. Please understand, García."

"I don't understand. Why? Why don't you talk about it?"

"Alright. I'll tell you, okay? But can you explain what's going on with Reid and Cal first? That's a little more pressing than this. But, I promise, after you tell me about those two dysfunctional kids, I will tell you anything you want to know. I promise."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"One question first?" Derek nodded and Penelope looked back at the photograph. "What's her name?"

"Sammie."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Jack opened the door and grinned up at Calliope, who stooped down a second and kissed him before punching the code into the alarm pad. Jack, blissfully unaware that his family unit was freefalling into complete disarray, grabbed his aunt's hand and pulled her into the living room to see his giant Lego tower. Calliope was 'ohhing' and 'ahhing' appropriately when Aaron came swiftly out of the office.

"Jack, who was at the door. You know you're not supposed to answ –" Aaron stopped both his speaking and moving when he saw Calliope.

"It was Aunt Callie, Daddy. I can answer for Aunt Callie or Aunt Jessica, 'member?"

"I remember, Buddy."

Calliope stood up and moved away from the four-year-old towards Aaron. "I know he's here, Aaron."

"Callie, I don't think this is a good idea. He's really upset. I think you should go."

"Aaron, please. He doesn't understand. I have to talk to him. Please, Aaron. He doesn't understand."

"Alright," Aaron said slowly, as if he still weren't sure about letting her see Spencer. "He's in the office. But if he doesn't want to see you, you have to go."

Calliope nodded, kissed Jack one more time and hurried down the hallway to find Spencer. Quietly easing the office door open, she slipped inside and closed the door behind her just as quietly. Spencer looked up at the noise and Calliope wanted to start crying again at the look in his eyes. Neither of them spoke for a quarter of an hour – Calliope too afraid to speak and Spencer in too much pain.

Calliope spoke first.

"Spencer, please…" She kept her voice quiet and steady, or she tried to, as she inched towards where he sat. "Please, listen to me. Give me a chance to explain. You don't understand."

"I don't understand? What don't I understand, Calliope?" Spencer's voice was harsh and angry. "You got rid of our baby without telling me you were even pregnant. You just got rid of her like she was a piece of junk mail you didn't want."

"Spencer…" Calliope's eyes watered and her nose tingled dangerously at his words, at the way he said what he said.

"Then you went into a terrible depression and you wouldn't tell me what was wrong. You wouldn't even talk to me. You pulled away every single damn time I tried to hold you. You got rid of our child and then made the next month a living hell for me. And now it's just gotten worse because I know she's gone and you didn't even think my opinion was worth asking. You had an abortion without even telling me our baby existed."

As he spoke, his voice became more and more angry. The more he thought about what Calliope had done, the more he hurt and the angrier he got.

"Where did you get the right to throw away our child without, at the very least, telling me you were pregnant? How do you figure that? Because I don't understand. Finally, something makes absolutely no sense to me. I don't understand."

"It wasn't a she."

"He then. Whatever. It doesn't make a difference now, does it?"

"Yes, it does."

"If it matters, why did you go through with the abortion? I thought you wanted kids? I mean, you love children. You teach them, you're with them all the time. You love Jack. You love Emeline. You wanted to adopt Emeline. She calls you 'mommy,' Calliope. I've seen how you are with her. You're her mom. She adores you and you're crazy for her. You want kids. I know you do. Why don't you want ours?

"Is that it? You didn't want him because I'm the father? You want children, but only if they're not mine. I'm okay to date and sleep with, but not to have a child with, not to marry or be a family with? You've just been using me for fun?"

"That's not true and you know it," Calliope stepped closer to him and reached out, but Spencer jerked away from her and stood up.

"I don't know what's true anymore, Calliope! I thought I did. I thought I knew you, but I guess I was just kidding myself. Wishful thinking, right? I fell for you and, by some miracle, you seemed to fall for me, but I guess I just tricked myself into thinking you actually loved me because that's what I wanted to believe. People do it all the time: make themselves believe something that isn't true. My mom's done it all her life so why shouldn't I?"

"Spencer! Don't say that. You know I love you."

"No, I don't. I don't know anything about you. The Calliope I thought I knew never would have even thought about having an abortion. She would have been ecstatic to find out she was pregnant. She would have been busting at the seams to tell me. I don't know this woman. I don't know you."

"Spencer, please listen to me. You don't understand."

"No. I'm tired of being understanding. I always understand. I'm not going to be understanding anymore. For once, I think I have the right to be anything but understanding. You terminated your pregnancy and then had García lie to me about what was wrong!"

"Leave Penelope out of this. She hasn't done anything wrong."

"She knew you got rid of my child and I didn't! She knew you were pregnant and I didn't! How is that _not_ wrong?"

"Damnit, Spencer, listen to me!"

"Why? So you can lie to me some more? You'll love any child in the world, but you got rid of ours. You were ready to adopt in a heartbeat and then didn't want our baby. You put together a bedroom for Jack and offered to take him without hesitating a second, but God forbid you have ours. You'll love any child, but not mine. Mine you'll throw away like it's trash.

"That's it, isn't it? It wasn't mine, was it?" A sick part of Spencer, a part he didn't realize existed within him, enjoyed the look of horror on Calliope's face when he asked if the baby was his. "You got lonely when the team left and so you went and found someone else to keep you entertained. You knew it wouldn't look like me and that I'd figure it out so you had an abortion. You got rid of the evidence. That's all people are to you, right? Entertainment? Just pieces on a chessboard you can manipulate for your own amusement. Maybe it wasn't just a one-night stand. Maybe I was so in love with you that I didn't notice every time I left you pulled this other man out."

His face stung.

He felt the searing sting before he fully realized she had slapped him across the face with an amount of force and strength he never would have suspected she possessed. Her eyes were fiery and furious behind the angry tears that weld there, waiting to spill down her cheeks.

"You asshole," her voice was shaking with uncontrolled rage. "You asshole. I never, ever cheated on you and you fucking know it. I wait for you while you're away, worrying that something might happen to you and you tell me I'm cheating on you? I waited twenty-seven years to have sex. I waited for you, you jackass! You seriously think I'm that cheap that I'd go fuck another guy because I'm lonely? If that's what you think about me, why the hell were you with me in the first place?

"I was never pregnant, you ass. There was no baby."

"What?" Spencer felt the baseball bat to his stomach for the second time in less than three hours and the floor seemed to drop out beneath him. He dropped back into the chair as his legs gave out and his mind reeled.

"I wasn't pregnant. Maybe if you'd taken a second to listen to me so I could explain, you'd still be in a relationship." Calliope spat the last sentence at him and turned on her heel, leaving him sitting in the office grappling for some semblance of firm footing, but he couldn't find any solid ground.

"Aunt Callie?" Jack's voice stopped her as she reached for the doorknob. Pushing a smile on her face and quickly wiping her eyes, she turned and squatted down to be on his level. Jack hesitated a second before running into her arms and hugging her tight, tucking his face into the crook of her neck. "You're not gonna go away, are you?"

"Oh, baby. I'm not going anywhere, Jack. I'm always gonna be here for you. I'm your aunt and you're my favoritest nephew. I love you, baby." Calliope's eyes watered and she took a shaky breath. Tilting her head, she kissed his forehead and hugged him tighter. "I'm not going away. Never, ever. I promise, Jack."

"You were yelling like Mommy and Daddy did."

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry. I promise you, no matter what happens ever, I will always be here. I'm never going to leave you, okay?"

"But… if you and Uncle Spencer yell like Mommy and Daddy, you'll have to go away to Heaven like Mommy," Jack started crying and clinging to her neck.

"No, no, baby. It doesn't work like that. Mommy going to Heaven had nothing to do with Mommy and Daddy yelling. I'm not going to Heaven. I'm staying right here with you. We have to have our parties when Daddy goes away to catch the bad guy. I have to take you to football practice and to school. I have to stay here and take care of you, Jack Attack."

"You're not going anywhere?"

"Never, ever."

Calliope cuddled the boy a little longer before she explain that she had to go home and take care of Perses otherwise he was going to go to the bathroom all over the house and that would be bad. Once the little boy was smiling again, she kissed him goodbye and left.

"Penelope?" She couldn't contain her tears any longer as she held the phone to her ear and started crying.

"_Calliope? Hunny, what's wrong?" Penelope waved a hand at Derek to shut him up and covered her ear to try and hear Calliope better._

"It's over. We're not together anymore."

"_Oh, Luce. I'm on my way. Just give me an hour and I'll be there." Grabbing her purse, Penelope stood up and ran over to where she'd left her shoes._

"_What's going on?" Derek asked, following the woman in confusion._

"_Reid and Calliope broke up," she whispered, shoving her feet into her heels._

"_Fucking hell…"_

"I'm not at home, Pen. I'm at Aaron's apartment. I'm sitting in my car."

_"Don't you dare drive, Luce. Derek and I'll come get you. Just hold on, okay?"_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer stared at his hands, trying to figure out what had happened. Calliope was gone and he doubted she was coming back. He dropped his head into his hands and cried.

What had he done?

* * *

**A/N:**

**OHMYGAAAWD WORLD CUP! I loooooooooooooove soccer. Go Team USA! I have a ginormous crush on Tim Howard. I have a thing for goal minders, both hockey goal minders and soccer keepers. There's something unbelievably hot about them. I haven't quite figured it out yet, I've just accepted it as truth. Haha SDFKSNDFSD Did any of yall watch the USA-England game? Oh my God. When Howard went down I was flipping the hell out. I kept talking to the sportscasters and players on TV and Mum kept asking what I was saying, so I'd tell her I was talking to the TV. All she said was, "Okay. Tell me if they talk back." Hahahahaha. I love my Mum.**

**Anywayssss... I've started a new story about Derek called _Cracked Concrete_. It's part of the _Mystery Muse_ universe and what happens in it will become highly important later in this story so I really suggest reading it, but, like always, you don't have to. But don't worry! _Cracked Concrete_ will in no way affect _Mystery Muse_ or its updates. Promise!**

**I hope you liked this chapter! Thanks so much for reading! Please, tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**

**P.S. I'm not preaching anything about abortion and whether it's good or bad in this chapter. I simply looked up facts and used them. If you want my opinion on abortion, Roe vs. Wade and all that mess, feel free to message me, but I'm not saying anything about what I believe in this chapter. No offense was meant to anyone.**


	36. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Your heart just breaks, that's all. But you can't judge or point fingers. You just have to find someone who appreciates you." – Audrey Hepburn_

o o o o

10 April, 2010

"It's okay, Luce," Penelope held her arms around Calliope tightly, rubbing her back as her friend sobbed into her shoulder. "Go ahead and cry. Cry all you want, hunny."

Calliope kept sobbing something completely indiscernible to both Penelope and to Derek, who, per Penelope's orders, was making coffee in the kitchen and repeatedly speed dialing Spencer's mobile, though the man wasn't picking up. The entire way from Derek's house to Aaron's apartment Penelope and Derek had talked about what to do. Unanimously, they'd agreed that neither Spencer nor Calliope was thinking clearly and neither should be left alone or they'd do something even more moronic than they'd already done. Not even Spencer's genius could stave against overwhelming idiocy when intense emotion was involved, as today had already proven tenfold.

Derek had been calling Spencer since they'd gotten a hysterical Calliope into Penelope's apartment. Calliope had ridden with Penelope and Derek had driven the Aston Martin, parking it discretely in the back of the parking garage for Penelope's building.

"Come on, kid. Pick up," Derek was muttering to himself as he poured coffee into Penelope's pink and brown oversized soup cups. By now, he knew how both women took their coffee and poured in sugar and the fancy French crème Penelope liked. "Come on, Pretty Boy. What do you have going on right now that's more important? Seriously?"

With a sigh he pressed the speed dial again and waited. "Reid. It's Morgan. García and I have Cal. Call me back."

Derek pocketed the phone and took the coffee out into the living room, putting the mugs down on the coffee table. Sitting down next to Calliope, he felt as if his allegiance was being tested in a way. On one hand, Calliope was his friend and she was hurting and crying, but, on the other, Spencer was more than just his friend. Spencer was his brother and, yet, Derek sat here rubbing Calliope's back instead of with him.

But, then, if he let them throw away their relationship because they were both too hurt to see reason, what sort of friend would he be? How could he sit by and watch his brother and his girlfriend destroy everything that mattered to them in one afternoon without attempting to salvage the situation, even if it meant sitting with Calliope instead of Spencer?

"Everything's all messed up." That, Derek understood. Penelope looked up at him and grimaced. Everything was definitely messed up. "How did this happen?"

"We can fix it, Luce," Penelope hugged her and tried to keep calming her down. "I'm sure everything can be fixed."

"He doesn't want me anymore." This new admission was quiet and heartbreakingly sad, but neither of her friends believed it was true.

"Did he say that, Toothpick? I mean, did he outright say he didn't want you?"

"He accused me of having an abortion. He said I didn't want the baby because it was his," Calliope's words were still jumbled by tears and sobs, but were slowly becoming more and more discernible.

"You know Reid didn't mean that, Lucy," Penelope shook her head, offering Calliope the box of tissues. "He loves you. You mean everything to him, Calliope. He was just upset. Everyone says things they don't mean when they're upset."

"He said I cheated on him," Calliope's voice broke and she dissolved back into tears once again, gasping awkwardly as she tried to talk. "H-h-he asked if it was his baby! He can't believe that. I love him. Why? Why would he say that?"

"Cal, you can't take what he said too seriously," Derek said over her sobs. "Okay, come here, kid." Easily, as if she were simply a weightless ragdoll instead of a human, Derek reached over and picked her up, settling her into his lap and letting her hold onto him. Calliope buried her face into his chest, sobbing and coughing, choking slightly on her own sobs. Movies with beautiful porcelain women who cried so daintily and eloquently… well – to put it bluntly – lied. Crying was messy and ugly with runny noses and swollen, red eyes. There was nothing attractive about crying, real crying.

"I never cheated on him," she sniffed pitifully and wiped snot away from her nose with a handful of tissues Penelope gave her.

"I know, Toothpick. He knows too."

"I love him."

"I know."

"I just stood there and let him yell at me. I couldn't say anything! I just stood there. I should have said something, but I couldn't. All I could think was I deserved to have him yelling at me. He was right! I made his life hell. I wouldn't talk to him. I wouldn't tell him what was wrong. I shut him out. I treated him like shit," Calliope blotted her eyes with a fresh tissue and Penelope took the used ones and threw them away. "I don't blame him. I deserved it."

"Hunny, you don't deserve to be accused of cheating," the tech goddess smoothed Calliope's flyaway hair back from her face. "No matter what happened."

"He didn't deserve to come home after seeing hell at work to me making our home hell. He couldn't get out of hell and it's my fault! I made the place that was supposed to be safe just as bad as what he sees at work!"

"No way, kid, no way. Cal, nothing is as bad as what we see at work," Derek shook his head vehemently. "Nothing compares to that. He'd have to loose you, permanently loose you, for it to be anywhere close to the same level of hell as what we see at work. I've been through personal hell that rivals what our team deals with and, I promise you, that was not it."

"I should have stopped him," Calliope moaned into her hands. "I just stood there and let him yell at me. And then I hit him! I hit him! I-I-I just slapped him and broke up with him? Why did I break up with him? Why didn't he break up with me? I don't deserve him!"

"Hunny, if we had to deserve everyone in our lives, we'd all be some seriously lonely people. Except for, you know, like Mother Teresa and Jesus. Two out of, what?, the trillion people who've ever lived – not a good sign, Luce."

"This is all my fault. If I'd talk to him, none of this would have happened," Calliope took a few deep breaths and look up, silently begging for them to tell her she was wrong, that she was solely responsible for the disaster her personal life had exploded into.

"Cal, you're both at fault. You for not talking to him and trusting him and Reid for jumping to conclusions. But it's fixable, kid. Trust me, Toothpick. No one on this team is going to let you and Reid do something as stupid as throw each other away without trying to fix it. And we will fix it. You and Reid are too special not to fix. My little brother has to stay with my little sister. No, not Desiree, you idiot. You," Derek rolled his eyes and shoved the finally smiling woman off his lap towards Penelope. "Gawd. What the hell would Reid be doing with Desiree? Penelope, take Lucille Ball back. She's almost her normal crazy self again so she's all yours, Ethel. Fred's checking out. I'm gonna try and call Ricky again. You two produce too much estrogen! Jeeze."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Reid?" Aaron closed the office door behind him and studied the young man still sitting there with his head in his hands, his long tangled hair completely obstructing any view the unit chief might have had of his face. "Reid, are you okay?"

"She broke up with me." Reid's voice was hollow and empty, detached from what the words as if he couldn't quite believe what he said was true. This couldn't have happened. Calliope couldn't be gone, couldn't have so callously thrown away everything they had spent so long building and protecting. He loved her. He never thought he'd fall in love with someone, really fall in love the way Aaron had fallen in love with Haley, but he had. He had fallen in love with her so fully and completely that he couldn't conceptualize a life without her. He wanted to marry her, not break up with her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, not spend the rest of his life wondering what could have been. He wanted her, he wanted Emeline, he wanted Bailey, he wanted Perses… hell, he even wanting the stupid horses.

"What?" Startled, Aaron sat down next to him and shook him slightly, trying to draw him out of the disengaged stupor into which he'd fallen. "Reid, what happened?"

"There was no baby," Spencer looked up at him and Aaron saw the raw brokenness in his bloodshot brown eyes. "Calliope wasn't pregnant."

"I thought you said you found pregnancy tests."

"I did. I don't know. I didn't give her a chance to say anything, Hotch. Not really. I kept ranting. I was on a tirade and I couldn't get off. I was so upset I couldn't censor myself. Hotch, I called her a whore. I called her a whore. I accused her of cheating on me and getting pregnant by another man. What did I do, Hotch? I'm supposed to be a genius and I threw away the most important thing in the world."

"Reid, you were emotional and she was emotional. Children are a very emotionally charge topic, you know that. Especially in this sort of situation. You've seen this before on cases. Neither one of you should hold their other accountable for what was said."

"Hotch, it's over. There's no fixing this."

"Do you love her?"

"Of course I do!" Spencer's eyes flashed angrily at Aaron's question. "Of course I love her, Hotch. Why would this upset me if I wasn't in love with her?"

"Spencer, if you love her, it's not over. You can fix this."

"I don't deserve her. I called her a whore and accused her of awful things that I know she'd never do. Why would she want to even see me now, much less forgive me? Hotch –"

"If you love her, it's not over," Aaron told him, stressing each word individually. "You can't let it be over."

"What?"

"I didn't fight for Haley, Reid."

"What?"

"I didn't fight for my marriage. Not really. Not when it was on the line and ready to fail. Yes, I tried my hardest to make it work between home and the job, but I didn't fight for my marriage when it counted. When Haley wanted out, I gave it to her. I thought that would be the best way. I reasoned that if I didn't fight the divorce, everything would remain civil as possible and Jack would be spared the worst of what could happen. I gave her the divorce even though it was the last thing I wanted. I loved Haley, Reid. I still do. I should have fought for her when it counted. Maybe, if I had, she'd still be alive.

"Reid, you still have a chance to fight for Callie. This may not be the high point in your relationship, but it's not over. You and Callie still have a chance if you're willing to fight for her. But you have to make the decision to fight even if she doesn't want to see you just yet. I have a feeling, though, that you'll find her willing to talk to you. I don't think the situation's as hopeless as you think it is."

"Really?"

Aaron had never heard Spencer's voice sound so afraid to be hopeful.

"Really. Explain to me what happened. You said there was never a baby?"

"I don't know the details. She just slapped me, called me an asshole and said 'If that's what you think about me, why the hell were you with me in the first place? I was never pregnant, you ass. There was no baby.'"

"You said you saw pregnancy tests."

"I did. Two of them. Both of them were positive."

"What about evaporation lines?"

"What?"

"Evaporation lines on pregnancy tests. If they're past the time you're supposed to look at them, the screens can continue changing."

"They were digital tests. It had the word 'pregnant' on the screen. How do you know that?"

"Haley wanted to keep the pregnancy test that she used when she found out she was pregnant with Jack. I know. It was disgusting, but I think it was the hormones. She looked at it a month later and the screen had changed, the evaporation lines had changed. Eventually she threw it out."

"That's… interesting." Spencer really wasn't sure what to say because the idea made him uncomfortable, but, then, Calliope had done the same thing. "She could have had a miscarriage or it was a false positive. Either one would explain why she was so depressed. She loves Emeline and Jack. Thinking she was pregnant and then finding out she either wasn't or had lost the baby would have been devastating. And I wasn't there for her when she needed me."

"Reid, you can't be there if she doesn't let you. Don't beat yourself up over this. You tried. We all know you tried. She knows you tried. You couldn't have done any more than you did."

"I should have thought about this before, Hotch."

"Did she give you any indication that she might be pregnant?"

"Well, no," Spencer conceded reluctantly.

"Then how could you have known?"

Spencer pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit the button to ignore Derek's call. His friend had been calling incessantly, but nothing Derek had to tell him could be nearly as important as what he was dealing with now. Whatever Derek wanted or needed would have to wait.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Calliope?" Spencer ran through the rain up the steps to the front door, not having bothered to pull into the garage. He slipped the key into the lock and threw the door open, not waiting to close the door and waiting just long enough to punch in the code to stop the alarm before bolting into the rest of the house. "Calliope?"

"Hi Pers," he greeted the dog absently as Perses jumped up on his hind legs and bounced a bit before falling forward onto all four paws. "Where's your mom? Is she home? Calliope?"

Perses whined pitifully when Spencer brushed past him without stopping to bestow affection on him in the usual homecoming greeting. Not giving up, Perses ran after him and barked at his heel, following him from room to room as Spencer kept calling Calliope's name.

Finally admitting defeat, Spencer sat down on the couch and rubbed his knee. He'd been moving too quickly, put too much strain on the joint, and it was starting to throb in protest. Perses took advantage on Spencer's momentary immobility and jumped up on the couch, put his paws on Spencer's leg and growled. Really growled, not just a playful I've-got-you-sock-so-you-better-chase-me growl, but a serious growl deep in the back of his throat. Spencer looked down and gave the angry dog a half smile, took the dogs' head in his hands and shook it playfully.

"At least I know for sure that one of you still wants me around. Okay, Pers, if you were your mom, where would you go right now if not home? Home. Williamsburg. Shit."

If she showed up at Dahlia with this story and Brenda found out, he'd be worse than dead.

In fact, he'd be better off dead.

Jumping off a bridge would be a fantastic option if Brenda Sellers found out what had happened.

His phone was buzzing again. Letting go of Perses' face, Spencer fished his phone out and was about to hit the ignore button, but thought better of it and answered.

"Morgan, I can't talk. I have to find Callio –"

_ "Reid. We have Cal."_

"We?"

_ "García and I. We've had her for the past three hours. I've been trying to call you."_

"Is… is she okay?" Spencer bit his lip and looked down at Perses, who had settled down and started chewing on the pocket of his pants.

_ "She's not crying anymore. She's not okay, but she's not crying. She just ate dinner." Derek closed the door of Penelope's bedroom behind him and sat down in a cushy leopard-print chair._

"Did she really eat or just pick at her food?"

_ "She really ate. Like she hadn't eaten in years. Has she lost weight? She seems skinnier than usual."_

"At least fifteen pounds. She's going to the doctor Wednesday."

_ "Fifteen pounds? From where?"_

"I don't know. Where is she?"

_ "She and García are watching _Driving Miss Daisy_ in the living room."_

"Damn."

_ "What?"_

"_Driving Miss Daisy_ is one of the movies she watches when she's incredibly upset. It's one of her comfort movies."

_ "Of course she's upset, Reid. For someone so smart, you really say some stupid shit. First you accuse her of not wanting your child and getting rid of your baby," Derek rolled his eyes and ran a hand over the back of his neck. Letting his fingers stop for a second, he felt the inked skin of the wings tattooed where the base of his neck met his spine and he closed his eyes. The kid would never know how lucky he was. "Then you accuse her of cheating on you and getting pregnant by another man. Come on, kid. You know she'd never do that to you. She loves you."_

"I know, I know. I really messed up." Spencer sighed and scratched Perses' back, ignoring the way the dog chewed on his pants, his teeth ripping the edge of his pocket. "I lashed out. I didn't let her say anything. I should have let her talk. Do you think she'll forgive me?"

_ "I think she will. She was upset. She didn't want to break up with you, Reid. She was just emotional. You know how that is. Obviously. What the hell happened, kid? That woman is the best damn thing that has ever happened to you and you know it. What were you thinking?"_

"I wasn't. That's the entire point. I wasn't thinking. I jumped to conclusions based on one thing and I didn't let her say anything. I ran with my own assumptions. I did the thing first thing they warn you about not doing when you begin the behavioral analysis classes. When I first joined the team, Gideon was always warning me against thinking I knew what was going on based on the first few things I knew. He always warned against fitting facts to fit theories instead of forming theories to fit facts.

"I haven't done that in years, but I did today. I was upset that she wasn't taking care of herself and, subsequently, our baby, so, when she said that she wasn't pregnant, I…" Reid looked down at his hands and cringed. He didn't want to say it.

_ "I know, Reid. I know. Even your big brain can't contain your emotions all the time. We all do stupid and say stupid things when we're emotional."_

"If I come, will Calliope see me?"

_ "She'll see you. Just get your scrawny butt over here and come get your crazy girlfriend. She misses you and she's afraid you don't want her anymore."_

"Of course I _want_ her," Spencer scoffed.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Where is she?"

Penelope let him in and held a finger to her lips. "She fell asleep while Hoke was telling Miss Daisy off for inviting him at the last minute."

"She always falls asleep at that point. It's like a reverse alarm clock. _Driving Miss Daisy_ works better than a sleeping pill." Spencer shrugged off his raincoat and hung it on the rack next to Derek's. Penelope drew back and looked at him. "Thank you. For taking care of her."

"Reid, she's my best friend. Well, my best girl friend. Of course I didn't let her do anything stupid. You, on the other hand… I'm not quite sure about at the moment," Penelope followed him as he walked quietly to the couch where Calliope lay schlumped over on a zebra print pillow with a bright blue afghan he recognized well pulled up to her chin. Spencer squatted next to the couch and brushed her hair away from her forehead.

"I love you, Sweetheart," he whispered to her and squeezed her hand as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. Her fingers tightened around his and Spencer saw her pale blonde eyelashes flutter every so slightly. Calliope wasn't asleep. Not quite.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed and pulled his hand to her. "I'm so sorry."

"Me too." Spencer kissed her, careful to just barely press his lips to hers until she kissed him back. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart."

Derek tugged on Penelope's auburn braid and led her out of the room with a hand on the small of her back. "C'mon, Baby Doll," he whispered in her ear and grabbed his coffee. "Let's get out of here. Give them some time privacy."

"It's my house," she protested as they went into the kitchen.

"Pathological snoopy nose."

"Don't quote Dick Van Dyke to me."

Spencer sat down next to the couch, silently happy when she held on tightly to his hand. Neither one of them said anything, simply held each other's hand and sat with their heads close together. Her hand was soft in his and he felt the calluses on her fingers and thumb from her paintbrush. He knew he'd have to say something eventually, but he was glad to just sit with her for a few minutes, knowing that she still wanted him.

"I should have told you," she whispered.

"What happened?"

"That day you left on the case – the one in Missouri –"

"Mississippi."

"Sure. You were out with Derek and you called to tell me, remember?"

"I remember." Of course he remembered. That was the day of the first outright lie he'd ever told her outside of details about his work that she had no business knowing. That was the day he'd gone to Williamsburg. The day he'd had to open a safety deposit box for that ring. Of course he remembered.

"I was going to tell you I was pregnant."

"Why didn't you?"

"I wanted you to be home. I had this big dinner planned and… I went to the doctor that Monday for my first check up."

_8 March, 2010_

_ Penelope held Calliope's hand as Calliope lay on the examining table waiting for the doctor to come in. Calliope tapped her neon orange fingernails against the metal framing in time with the tapping of Penelope's foot on the tile floor._

_ "Why do doctors always make people wait so long before coming in? Especially in gynecologist offices? I mean, when we're waiting to do the whole Pap smear, pelvic exam, breast exam crap every year, we just want to get it the hell over with so we hate it when they take forever. And, like now, I dying to hear the baby's heartbeat and they just refuse to come in. Bah humbug."_

_ Laughing, Penelope nodded her agreement and squeezed her friends' hand. "You'll be fine, Lucy. Hearing it now or in ten minutes isn't going to change anything. Are you sure you want to do this without Reid?"_

_ "I'd rather have Spencer here, but you know how he gets when he doesn't have any information and he's nervous. He'd be unable to sit still and knocking everything over. It's better to tell him when I have something from the doctor to give him. You know him. He needs concrete statistics and details. At least that's what I'm telling myself. Plus, I don't know how long they're going to be in Mississippi on the case and I want to start taking the prenatal vitamins and things as soon as possible."_

_ "Well, look at you, Miss In Control. You've got everything figured out, don't you, Lucy?"_

_ "Naw, I'm still confused about the most important parts."_

_ "Well, Calliope, in this day and age, when a man and a woman fall in love it eventually leads to fornication – a lot of fornication. And contraceptive protection is only so effective."_

_ Neither Calliope nor Penelope could control their laughter and, by the time they calmed down, tears were leaking out of their closed eyes and both women were grabbing the stitches in their sides. _

_ "They're going to kick us out of here, Ethel. I swear to God, we shouldn't be allowed in public together." Calliope wheezed, wiping her eyes. "Ugh, no. That's not what I meant. Funny as hell, but not what I meant. I'm still not sure how to tell Spencer and I'm not sure if I want to know the sex or not. And I have no idea how to tell Emeline."_

_ "Well, Ms. Sellers, you have a while to decide if you want to know the sex or not. We can't find that out until at least the eighteenth or twentieth week of pregnancy. How are you, Ms. Sellers?"_

_ "I'm good, Dr. Shusterman. This is my friend Penelope García. The father, Dr. Spencer Reid, is away on a case right now."_

_ "A doctor? Well, we know the baby's certainly got good genes. Alright, let's get down to business, Ms. Sellers. Our lab is working on your blood tests now and we should have them in half an hour. You came on a good day – not very much going on in the lab today. I already told you that your pelvic exam was good, nothing abnormal and that's a very good place to start. Now, I have some questions for you. First off, when was the first day of your last period?"_

_ "Eight and a half weeks ago. On January fourth."_

_ "Your sure?"_

_ "Yes. I had to go get tampons and Jack asked what they were for. That was an awkward, evasive conversation."_

_ "Alright. So the tentative date of birth will be roughly around November eighth. Do you smoke or drink?"_

_ "Smoke, no. Drink, occasionally, but not on a regular basis."_

_ "Have you ever been pregnant before?"_

_ "No."_

_ "Any diseases, high blood pressure, cancer, genetic or mental diseases, in your family or your partners?"_

_ "Um, my grandpa has high blood pressure and high cholesterol. I don't know about my parents – they both died in a car accident. I know my maternal grandmothers' family has a history of Leukemia, but it's sporadic at best, however, my grandmother did pass away from it. Spencer's mother has, um, has schizophrenia and his father has high cholesterol as well."_

_ "What about you or Dr. Reid?"_

_ "Not that I'm aware of. I mean, I have allergies, but other than that, no. Spencer's three years past the typical age range for schizophrenia to set in."_

_ "Alright. Are you allergic to any medications?"_

_ "Not that I know of."_

_ "Do you use any birth control other than the Yaz I prescribed for you?" Dr. Schusterman was writing in the file as she answered his questions, pausing briefly at moments to look up at her._

_ "No. Just the Yaz."_

_ "Okay and we already got your blood pressure and all that other good stuff. Are you wanting to see –"_

_ "Yes! I'm dying to."_

_ Dr. Shusterman and Penelope both laughed and Dr. Shusterman stood up and started to get the machine ready._

_ "Lie a little further down for me, Ms. Sellers. Perfect. Just pull your shirt up over your stomach and this is going to be a bit cold."_

_ Calliope jumped a little when the gel met her skin. "Okay, that _was_ cold. Why do you need to use the jelly?"_

_ "It helps us to get a better connection, so to speak. It improves the image we get because it closes the air gaps that occur without it and gets us the best image of your baby. Lets see if we can find the little guy." The doctor turned his attention to the screen as he moved the transducer slowly over her stomach. "There's your uterus, Ms. Sellers."_

_ Calliope watched in anticipation, squeezing Penelopes' hand and biting the inside of her cheek. "I can't hear the heartbeat."_

_ "We aren't using the Fetal Doppler, so you shouldn't hear the baby. It's the wrong machine for that. This one is just going to show us your baby. We'll use the Doppler in a bit so you can hear the heartbeat, but sometimes these little guys are hard to find this early into the pregnancy. Just give me a minute to find him." Calliope tried to be reassured by the doctors' words, but the expression on his face scared her._

_ "Is every… Dr. Shusterman, what's wrong?" Calliope's voice wavered and she squeezed Penelope's hand harder. Penelope tightened her grasp on Calliope's hand and poorly masked her concern._

_ The man didn't respond immediately, rather he wrinkled his forehead and kept moving the transducer over her abdomen. Nothing was showing on the screen. "Ms. Sellers, I'll be right back. I'm going to go see if your lab work is done."_

_ "But what about –"_

_ "I'll be right back," he cut off Penelope's question and hurried out of the room._

_ "Ethel, what's going on?"_

_ "I don't know, Luce. Are you sure the tests were positive?"_

_ "Yes! I got the digital one so I wouldn't mess it up. And I did both tests in the box. Just in case. They were both positive."_

_ "You're sure?"_

_ "Of course I'm sure. I can read. It said 'pregnant.' There was no 'not' in front of it! It just said 'pregnant.'"_

_ "I'm sorry. I was just asking."_

_ "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just want to know what's going on. This gel's getting colder." It felt like forever until Dr. Shusterman came in with a file and a somber look on his face. "What? What is it?"_

_ "Ms. Sellers, your blood test came back negative. Your HGC levels are normal for a non-pregnant woman."_

_ "What does that mean?"_

_ "It means you're not pregnant," Penelope told her, her voice sad and her eyes tearful._

_ "But, but… I missed my period twice."_

_ "Things can make women miss a period, things like medicine or stress or rapid weight loss or gain. Have you lost weight or been under stress? Changed medicine's lately?"_

_ "Well, I lost a little weight in Haiti and, sure, I was under a lot of stress there."_

_ "How much weight did you lose?"_

_ "F-five pounds maybe?"_

_ "For you, five pounds is a lot. That by itself could cause you to miss your period. If you add stress to that, I'm not at all surprised that you did."_

_ "But the pregnancy tests. They were both positive. Both of them," Calliope desperately kept protesting, trying to find a way for what the doctor was telling her not to be true. "Did… did I have a miscarriage?"_

_ "I don't think so, Ms. Sellers. I don't think you were ever pregnant. You might have messed up with the home tests or they could have been faulty. I'm assuming they were from the same box. The tests could have been expired."_

_ "I checked the date before I bought them and did everything exactly like the instructions said." Calliope took the tissues Penelope handed her and clenched her fingers around them._

_ "Some tranquilizers can upset the HGC levels. Have you been administered a tranquilizer or taken any medicine with tranquilizer additives lately?"_

_ "I was on Xanax for a week. But that was last June."_

_ "Well, it's possible, highly unlikely, but possible, that you might still have traces on the Xanax in your blood stream and it caused the text to give a positive result. You still have the gel on your abdomen. I can look again if you'd like, but I'm sorry, Ms. Sellers, you're not pregnant."_

_ "N-no. It's… it's okay. I don't want you to try again," Calliope's voice was tearful and she started attacking the sticky gel with the tissues Penelope had given her. _

_ "You know, this might be better this way," Dr. Schusterman didn't understand Penelope's attempted warning when he started this. "I mean, you should really gain some weight before you try again. At least ten or fifteen pounds. Maintaining a healthy weight for a few months before you get pregnant would be good for both you and your baby. Maybe this is just a blessing in disguise."_

_ "Doctor, please." Penelope's voice was tight and insistent._

_ "Ah… I'll leave you alone. I'm so sorry, Ms. Sellers."_

_ "Oh, Babe, come here." Penelope tried to wrap her arms around Calliope once the doctor had left, but Calliope shook her head._

_ "I'm all gooby and gross," Calliope sniffed, trying desperately not to cry._

_ "Like I care," the blonde hugged the redhead close, ignoring the sticky gel that got on her jacket. Running a hand over her back, Penelope rocked her back and forth as she cried. "I know, Baby. I know."_

_ "I was so stupid."_

_ "What? Why?"_

_ "To think this would all work out. To think that we'd loose Eme and just get another chance. To even want this! I can't replace Emeline with another baby just like that. I was so stupid, Pen. So, so stupid."_

_ "You're not stupid, Luce. It's not stupid to want the fairy tale."_

_ Penelope took Calliope home. She spent the afternoon holding her and letting her cry until she couldn't cry anymore. Calliope lay on the couch, comatose and watching _Rebecca_, while Penelope started cooking dinner. She tried to get Calliope to eat, but she wouldn't. After that, Calliope didn't say anything_

_ She left when Derek called her to say they'd just gotten back to the BAU, but not until she promised Calliope she wouldn't tell Spencer. Penelope couldn't convince Calliope that she had to tell Spencer. She tried, but Calliope wouldn't see reason. _

_ Calliope managed to drag herself off of the couch and into her bedroom. It was too hot it here. It was too hot. She couldn't breath. Calliope pulled her Bangles t-shirt up over her head and tossed it into the corner, not bothering to take it to the laundry basket like she always did. She never left clothing on the floor, but now, her jeans lay next to her shirt and she climbed into bed in just a grey sports bra and green boy shorts._

_Calliope rested her hand over her stomach._

_There was nothing there._

_Nothing._

_ She heard when Spencer came in, heard him undress and add his clothing to hers and cringed when he crawled on the bed rather than slipping in beside her. She felt his breath on her neck as he leaned close to her._

_ "Wake up, beautiful." He kissed her spine and let his hand rest across her stomach. Not her stomach. Anyplace but her stomach._

_ "Don't touch me."_

_ The bed jerked with Spencer's startled movement and Calliope closed her eyes, horrified at causing him pain. He tried to touch her, but she flinched away, cringing inwardly. She couldn't let him touch her. _

_ "Sweetheart? Calliope, what's wrong? Please, Sweetheart. Please talk to me."_

_ "I just want to sleep."_

_ She'd tell him in the morning. She didn't want to talk about it right now. In the morning. Yes. That would be better. She'd tell him first thing tomorrow morning._

"You never told me."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "The longer I waited, the harder it got to tell you. I wanted to, but I couldn't."

"I wish you'd told me, Sweetheart. I would have understood. I could have been there for you," Spencer leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "I love you. I would have been there."

"I know. I know you'd have been there," Calliope rolled on her side slightly and brushed his hair out of his eyes and kissed him. "This was never about the idea that you might now be there. This was me."

"Why couldn't I touch you? I don't understand. Why did that upset you?"

"I didn't deserve you," she hung her head. "I treated you like crap and you were showing me such love and kindness. You were so patient." Spencer kissed her, readjusting his hold on her hand and sighed. That wasn't the clear answer he'd wanted, but it was probably as close as he was going to get. "I love you."

"I love you too, Calliope. But you can't shut me out like that again. I can't spend the rest of my life wondering for months at a time why you won't talk to me. This'll only work if we trust each other. And talk."

"The rest of your life?"

"I'm all in this, Sweetheart. A hundred percent. Forever."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I'm confused about the World Cup. I mean, what happened? These aren't the teams I watched qualify the past three years. These are new teams. Crappy teams. And I, personally, want to know what happened to the original teams. Ya know, the ones that were actually good footballers. Because I want them back. We only get the World Cup every four years (for which my mum's eternally grateful) and I'd like to actually see some decent football, thank you very much.**

**I don't know if yall have heard about the recent bullshit drama CBS is trying to play on us, but, if you haven't, allow me to enlighten you. They've cancelled AJ and are negotiating Paget's role down to a few episodes a season rather than a full cast member. They're leaving all four guys and García alone. It's all over the entertainment news, just type in "Criminal Minds" to google and you'll find the hornets nest. The response has been amazing. I for one do NOT want to loose two of the strongest female characters on modern television so CBS can afford to pay the wife-beating Charlie Sheen $2 million an episode for his stupid sitcom. So, sign the petition, call and e-mail CBS, add #SaveTheCMLadies and #WeSupportAJandPaget to your tweets. Even if you don't think you can make a difference, you can.**

**Anyways... I hope this chapter makes up for the angst and the Ghostie (Scout! haha) and I hope you liked it! Tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**

**P.S. Oh! And happy Dad's Day for those of you with Dads. Have fun! Tell 'em you love them! I'm gonna go watch home movies. Ciao!**


	37. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_If love does not know how to give and take without restrictions, it is not love, but a transaction that never fails to lay stress on a plus and a minus." – Emma Goldman_

o o o o

19 April, 2010

"I'm a doctor. I, uh, I put my faith in facts and statistical probabilities, but… _today_, eight parents are going to have closer, three children are going home with their families. Because you believed your son was alive. That's as close to a miracle as I've ever seen." With a semi-smile, Reid walked away into the bullpen and was startled to see Calliope sitting rather uncomfortably at his desk.

"Calliope? What are you doing here?"

"I just had my doctors appointment. Remember? Dr. Davis gave me a referral to Dr. Chen in Washington. She works at the, uh, the Eating Disorder Center on Connecticut Avenue? She deals with the physical aspects of… of, uh, anorexia."

"Right. Right. I thought you said you were going to call me."

"I did. Three times. I called Ethel and she said you were on your way back, so I came here instead of going back home," Calliope wrapped her arms around herself and looked uncomfortable and self-conscious, fiddling with the FBI visitor badge hooked on her pastel blue blouse. "I saw you. With that woman. The one with the teenage boy. You were amazing. You… you are very good at your job, Spencer. I don't know how you do it."

"Do you want to go outside? We can find some privacy."

"Thank you," she breathed in relief and let him lead her out of the bullpen with his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Reid kissed her temple and nodded at Morgan as they passed.

"What did Dr. Chen say?" Reid asked once they were in a secluded corner of the BAU building.

"I weight sixty-eight pounds."

"Calliope!" The number both startled and terrified him. "Sweetheart, you lost twenty-four pounds?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Calliope kept apologizing over and over again and he closed his eyes and hugged her to him.

"It's okay. I'm sorry. Stop apologizing, Sweetheart. What else did she say?"

"My… I… you're gonna be mad at me."

"Tell me. I won't be mad."

"I'm about to make you a really big liar, Dr. Reid," Calliope sighed and leaned her forehead against his chest before taking a deep breath. "Dr. Chen's worried. She ran like way too many tests for me to keep up with. I have all the results in my purse. I don't fully understand all the results, but she explained it to me so that I could understand the jist and what I was supposed to do to fix it. I'm sure it'd make perfect sense to you."

"May I?" Reid gestured at his purse and she nodded, pulling out the manila file and handing it to him. He noted the way she refused to look anywhere but him as he opened the file and started to read to photocopies. She had been right. Gritting his teeth, he flipped through the pages, carefully reading each one until he had read the last page and closed the folder. "I… I don't even know what to say. You've actually rendered me completely speechless."

"I'm sorry."

"Your organs are shutting down, Calliope. If you don't… I… You…" Reid looked away and took a breath, trying to calm himself. "If you don't do exactly what she says and make an effort to regain the weight, you're going to be dead by September."

"I'm sorry."

"You'll do what she says."

"I'm not some secretary or intern you can boss around, Spencer. I'm your girlfriend. Don't order me around. But, yes, of course I'm going to do what she says." Calliope narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Spencer looked at the jarring way her skin clung to her wrists and forearms. Noticing him staring at her arms, she rubbed them self-consciously. "Of course I'm going to do what she says. I don't want to die. I didn't mean for this to happen. I want to be healthy, Spencer."

"I know. Come here," Reid hugged her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I love you, Sweetheart. So, so much. I can't loose you."

"I love you too." Calliope squeezed her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry."

"I know. We'll get you healthy again. What else did Dr. Chen say?"

"She said I had to drastically increase my calories, eat 'healthy fats' like foods with omega-3 fatty acids. She said salmon and tuna have that. And walnut. I hate walnuts, but I guess they're back on the menu. Protein, carbs, fruits, veggies, whole grains, nuts, lean meat, chicken, fish, pasta. She printed it all out. It's in there. I'm not supposed to go running anymore. Stay away from junk food. Uh, she said to start drinking these ScandiShakes. I'm supposed to mix it with whole milk and drink it. Apparently it's about six hundred calories itself. It comes in different flavours and it can be mixed in with stuff when you're cooking. So, apparently, I'm going to be attempting to cook more. So… if I accidently set the house on fire or poison us or make the oven explode or something equally bad, well, I'm sorry. I have a bad track record. The last thing she said was to put a half stick of butter on everything I eat."

Reid nodded, offered an attempted smile, and gave her the manila file back, which she tucked into her purse. "Anything you need, Sweetheart. Just tell me."

"I know, String Bean. I'm… I'm really sorry, Spencer."

"We'll get through it. We'll figure it out."

"I know what you're thinking."

"Oh yeah?" Reid smiled at her. "You're a mind reader now? Do you, uh, mind if we borrow that the next time we're interrogating an unsub?"

"It's all yours," she joked before turning more serious. "You're thinking that if I'd told you what was going on earlier this might never have happened, I wouldn't have gotten this sick. You're blaming yourself for not forcing food down my throat, for leaving to go on cases, for not trying harder."

The way he shifted his eyes towards his shoes for a moment told her she was right.

"This isn't your fault." Reaching out, she took his hand and squeezed, making him look up at her. "This isn't your fault. I may call you Magician and you do pretty awesome magic tricks and your brain is as close to magic as anything, but you don't have real magic, baby. You couldn't have fixed me. I wasn't ready. I needed to be ready. You leaving… It scared the bajeezes out of me, Spencer. It brought me back to reality. I couldn't loose you. I'd already lost Emeline and then our baby that wasn't real. I couldn't loose you too, Spencer."

"I'm not going anywhere, Calliope. We'll be okay. And we didn't loose Emeline, Sweetheart. She's fine. We talk to her every day. I know it's not the same as having her here with us, but we didn't loose her completely. Maybe one day she will be here, but, until then, we'll love her from here. When you're healthy again, we can try for a baby, if that's what you want."

"I thought you didn't want children."

"When did I ever say that?"

"I, well, I just assumed. Because of…"

"My mom?"

"Well, yeah. To be honest."

"I didn't. Not before I met you. I didn't think that would every come up even if I did want kids. But then I met you. You've changed my entire life, Calliope. Everything. For the better. I didn't realize how lonely I was before I met you, I didn't realize that I wanted more than what I had. I wanted you and I wanted someone to wake up to every morning, but I didn't want just any woman, I wanted you. I'd rather be alone than with someone other than you. And somehow I got you. And then we found Emeline."

"Your princess."

"My Princess Eme," he grinned. "So, yes, I do want children. With you. With you, I want the whole package."

"Why are you so nice to me?"

"Well, if I were cruel, you'd probably leave," Reid smiled at her. "And, as Morgan so eloquently put it last week, you're pretty much the best damn thing that's ever happened to me. Why would I screw that up?"

"I… I better go. I don't want to get you in trouble."

"We just finished a case. I'll be fine. Calliope, do you… do you want to go get some lunch?"

"Yeah," Calliope smiled up at him and walked the few steps over to him. "Yeah. I'd like that."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

21 April, 2010

"Sweetheart? Are you okay?" Spencer asked warily as he walked into the bedroom with a Coke in hand. He'd come in to get the letter from Gideon that he had left in here yesterday and was surprised and worried to see Calliope lying on the bed with the phone in her hand. It'd been a long, long day at work and he wasn't sure if he was mentally ready to deal with this again.

"I'm fine, Spencer," she smiled weakly and looked up at him.

"Uh, okay. I'm not sure – I mean, Calliope, I… No. I don't believe you. Please don't do this again. You said you wouldn't shut me out anymore."

"I'm not. I promise. Come here. I miss you," Calliope ushered him over and he put the red can down on the nightstand and climbed onto the bed next to her. Taking the phone from her, he put it next to his Coke and waited while she cuddled next to him. Neither one spoke for a little while. Calliope snuggled her face into his neck and he pulled the end of the bright pink ribbon she'd used to tied her hair back and began running his fingers through her freed hair.

"I'm thinking about cutting my hair," she whispered.

"I like it long," he admitted, kissing her.

"I don't think I've ever had my hair short. Grandpa liked it long. And Mammy said short hair was for boys. She got so mad when Keely took the kitchen scissors to her hair and gave herself this horrible bob. Janine couldn't fix it into anything but a pixie cut. It took a year and a half to grow out completely. It was terrible. Luckily, Keelz was only six, so she didn't really care. But, it scared me so bad that I never fought Mammy on not cutting my hair short. All I could think of was that awful pixie cut."

"I'm sure you'd look beautiful with short hair."

"You'd think I'd look beautiful in a potato sack covered in slime."

"Only because you would."

"You're ridiculous," Calliope giggled and shook her head, kissing his neck and snuggling closer. "But I love you."

"I love you too, Sweetheart. Tell me what's wrong?"

"I'm just being stupid and overly sensitive."

"You're not stupid, one, and how can I judge if you're being overly sensitive if you don't tell me what's bothering you?" Spencer kissed her forehead and hugged her tightly. "Calliope, you promised you wouldn't shut me out."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just got off a three-way call with Jill and Keely. Kind of depressed, I guess."

"Usually you're happy after talking to them."

"I know, I know. I, uh… Part of it is that I really miss Jill and Keely. The other part is… They both had some really exciting news to tell me, well, each other too. They both wanted to tell us at the same time. We've always done big news that way. We wait until the three of us could get together and tell the other two the news at the same time. That how I told them I got offered a partial scholarship to Yale. Obviously, I didn't take it, but, you know, it was still a big deal. I wanted to go where my parents went. Kind of lame, I know."

"It's not 'lame,'" he assured her, waiting patiently for her to continue.

"Trisha asked Keely to marry her. She got down on one knee and gave this big speech and asked Keely to marry her. Yeah, I know. They're having the legal part done in D.C. because it's legal there, but we'll have the wedding ceremony at Dahlia, of course. Keely's going to ask Grandpa to give her away. It's gonna be in June. I don't know the exact date yet, but we'll see. They want to do it soon incase we have another California and they can't anymore. You'll have to try and get off."

"I'll talk to Hotch tomorrow." He was happy for Keely – and for Trisha. He was. Truly. But this announcement threw a wrench into his own plans. He wanted to propose to her this summer, after they'd moved past this, had time to heal. Probably on their anniversary. It was on a Saturday this year, so it would work. He had planned to take her back to the Norfolk Zoo, the place he'd taken her on their first Valentine's Day together. She'd loved the lions the most, especially Zola, the female lion. Zola had been pregnant at the time and Calliope kept saying she wanted to go back and see the four cups she'd given birth to. Spencer wanted to propose to her in front of the lion exhibit.

Now he'd have to wait. He didn't want Calliope feeling like he was proposing because he thought that was what she wanted. And he wanted to let Trisha and Keely have the undivided attention they deserved. They'd been together five years and were finally allowed to get married. They deserved the lime light for as long as they could have it. So he'd wait, make a new plan and go from there.

"… this Sunday. So, don't be late."

"What? I-I'm sorry. I was thinking about Keely and Trisha. What did you say?"

"They haven't told Mammy and Grandpa yet. The six of us are going to dinner at Marcel's in D.C. on Sunday. Our reservation is at six thirty."

"Brenda's going to be there," he sighed and leaned his head back. This would be fun. About as much fun as being interrogated by Chief Strauss.

"It shouldn't be too bad, Magician," Calliope kissed his jaw apologetically. "Her attention will be on Keely and Trish once they tell them."

"Yeah, but until then she's going to spend the entire time zeroing in on everything I do wrong or have done wrong or might possibly do wrong in the near or distant future. And subtly reminding everyone why I'm not good enough for you or your family."

"I'm sorry, String Bean. I'm really sorry."

"It's not your fault. Though, I'm glad the dinner isn't until six. I was going to wait until later, but I guess I should tell you now before you make plans. I have a surprise for you," Spencer pulled away slightly and opened the draw on his nightstand, shifting the contents until he pulled out an unmarked white envelope and handed it to her.

"Is it anthrax?" She joked as she untucked the top. "Sorry. Bad joke. What is this? Tickets? Oh my God!"

"Happy Jazz Appreciation Month."

"You got tickets to both tribute concerts this weekend?"

"She's your favourite."

"But you don't like Ella Fitzgerald, Spencer."

"Maybe not, but I love you and you love Lady Ella. So I wanted to take you."

"What if you get called on a case?"

"We'll deal with that if I do. Hopefully that won't happen and we'll be spending Saturday and Sunday at the Smithsonian. One last date before your Mammy crucifies me."

"She would never actually kill you. She's far too religious for that. It's a sin. She'll just make it so that you _wish_ she'd kill you. It's far better sport for her."

"You're not helping."

"I picked you, Spencer. No matter who she brings up or what she says, I picked you nearly two years ago and I'd pick you again today."

Spencer cupped his hand to the back of her neck and kissed her deeply. "That helped. I love you."

"Funny how that works out, because I love you too."

"So what was Jill's news?"

"Jill's was a double whammy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. First, Jill… Jill's pregnant. Thirteen weeks. She's due in mid-October. She didn't want to say anything until she was out of the first trimester. She and Steve are having a baby." Calliope voice was suddenly sad and soft and Spencer held her close to him. "They're having a baby and I'm being a terrible sister. I'm so unbelievably jealous. And kind of angry. But I have no right to be angry. I mean, it's not her fault what happened. I should be happy for her."

"Sweetheart, it's understandable to be upset and jealous. She's getting what you want," Spencer hugged her as tightly as she wanted and kissed her forehead over and over. "Don't worry, Calliope. One day we'll have one. When you're healthy, we can start talking about it."

"I still can't believe you want children."

"The night you came to Houston, after the Reaper had us thinking he'd murdered you and Eli and Isaac, I had this dream. It was such a good dream I almost didn't want to wake up. I'd gotten home from a case and you were out in the backyard painting. This little girl with bright red curly hair came running up to me and jumped into my arms, smiling, and kept saying 'Daddy!' 'I missed you, Daddy.'

"That was the day I knew for sure I wanted children. I want that little girl who looks just like you running up when I get home. I want to fall asleep next to you and wake up because someone's come running into the room after a nightmare. I want to read stores at bedtime and sit in the audience at ballet recitals.

"Finding Princess Emeline just reinforced that I want them. When she fell asleep in my lap, she had me for life. I would give anything to have her here with us right now. I miss her all the time."

Calliope nestled closer into his embrace and closed her eyes. "I see her everywhere. When I'm in the kitchen, when I'm at the grocery store, when I glance in the review mirror in the car. Is that strange? Seeing her everywhere?"

"Not at all. Parents of kidnapped children 'see' their children all the time. Sarah Hillridge, the woman you saw me talking with on Monday, saw her son Charlie for years after he was kidnapped. He was always the same age, always eight. So why shouldn't we see Emeline? She may not have been kidnapped, but we did loose her. I see her too," Spencer admitted.

"You do?"

"Constantly. Especially on cases like that last one. Ones with children. Looking at the pictures of the missing children on the board, I kept seeing Emeline's posted there and having to look again to reassure myself that she wasn't there, that I was just imagining it, which might not necessarily be a good thing."

Neither spoke for a while, simply laid together, kissing occasionally and reclaiming the closeness they had been missing for so long. Spencer enjoyed the slow, affectionate kisses that never quite built any intense passion, but, as much as he loved when their kissing did build into more, this tenderness served as a desperately wished for reminder that they could overcome anything together, that, no matter what stupidity plagued them, they loved each other.

"You're really good at that," she whispered and closed her eyes happily, resting her head on his chest. Spencer blushed a little, beaming inwardly at the praise.

"You said Jill had two bits of news? What was the other one?"

"She and Steve are moving back home. Hopefully by June for the wedding, but they have to see what they can get. They have to find their replacements and all sorts of stuff. Jill said she'd been getting homesick and, though she likes her new position, she's not really happy. So they're going to come home before the baby's born."

"You don't seem as ecstatic about that as I thought you'd be."

"I dunno, I'm kind of apprehensive about it. She's been gone seven years. I've grown up a lot since she left, but I have a feeling she's still going to treat me like a little kid she has to protect or something. She does when she comes home for visits, but it's bearable then because it's only for a little while. She always treats me like I'm in junior high and she has to remind me to finish my homework or something. I mean, I know she doesn't mean anything by it, but I've kind of gotten used to being treated like an adult since she's been gone and now I'm going to be treated like a kid again."

"Isn't she only a few months older than you?"

"Yeah. She's always been this way though. It's just who she is. She's a mother hen. I dunno, I've always been the more, uh, daring one, I guess. I wasn't afraid of doing something because I might get hurt."

"No one jumps off their aunt's roof if they're afraid they might get hurt," Spencer rolled his eyes, remembering a story Joseph's wife Rachel had told, much to the chagrin of Calliope.

"That was fun. And I landed on the trampoline! I just kinda… bounced off."

"Yeah, right into the swing set."

"I was only in the hospital for one night. All in all not too bad."

"They had to sew your scalp shut. You fractured your skull!"

"Well, it gave me something to blame whenever I do weird things. 'Yeah, I hit my head really hard when I was a kid. Cracked my skull.' 'Oh really? That explains so much.'" Calliope joked, pulling away to pick up the whimpering dog pawing at the side of the bed. "Come here, cutie pie. Do you feel neglected? Mommy and Daddy are paying attention to each other and not to you? I know! How dare us? Where do we get off not pay attention to the puppy? You should turn us over to the ASPCA. Unfortunately, you can't reach the phone, so you're stuck with us."

"Hey, Pers," Spencer smiled and ran a hand over Perses' back as the dog plopped himself down between them, panting happily with the tongue lulling out the side of his open mouth. "No. You can't chew on my shirt. You stay over there and stop trying to inch over here to me. I'm on to you, dog."

"Are you just trying to get to Daddy's cloths? Is that what your trying to do? Sneaky, sneaky puppy," Calliope teased Perses in a singsong voice and pulled him close to hug him. "I'm glad you got him, Spencer. He's completely perfect. Aren't you prefect? Yes, yes, you are. Oh. Thank you for the kisses, thank you. Thank you. Oh, I love you too!"

"Just talk to Jill. I'm sure she'd understand."

"What? Oh. Yeah, I guess so. It's weird though. I was the responsible one once we reached high school. At least about school work. So I don't know why she kept doing it."

"I bet it's more of an emotional act than a realistic act. I highly doubt it has anything to do with whether or not you can take care of yourself and more to do with needing to feel in control of life and making sure everything goes as planned. She couldn't control her home life or the way her parents acted, so she tried to protect and be in charge of you and Keely to make sure nothing bad could happen. Psychologically, she was just trying to do everything in her power to control her surroundings."

"Man. Genius profilers are smart," she teased, playfully shaking Perses' head as he wrapped his paws around her wrist and tried to gnaw on her fingers. "Your daddy's way too smart. He could talk me in circles."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

25 April, 2010

"Don't you know, little fool, you never can win? Use your mentality, wake up to reality. But each time that I do just the thought of you makes me stop before I begin, 'cause I've got you under my skin."

Calliope smiled and rested her head on Spencer's chest as they swayed in time to the music. She was wearing her favourite patchwork sundress and the way he had smiled when he saw her made the slight chill she got wearing it worth it.

"I love this song," she told him and lifted her head up to kiss him.

"I know."

"This is the first time we've been dancing somewhere other than the kitchen."

"No, it's not." Spencer shook his head.

"It isn't?"

"Nope."

"Where? I don't remember."

"We danced on the porch around the front of the house, by the swing. I'd been reading to you, _I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings_, and a specific song came on over the speakers. 'Some Day My Prince Will Come' by Miles Davis. And you, in true Calliope fashion, got very excited, pulled me up off the swing, knocked the book into the zinnia pot and we danced on the porch."

Calliope stared at him for a moment before throwing her head back and laughing. "I remember. It was cold. Early December. And snow was still all over the yard. Perses slide on the ice down the steps and into the snow. Poor thing was so confused. And cold. I remember. Spencer?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being you."

"You're welcome?" Spencer looked down at her with an odd look on his face, but he just shook his head and kissed her. "I have something for you."

"What? You brought me here. I don't need anything else, Spencer."

"Will you shut up and just let me give you a present? Every time I try and give you a gift, you protest and tell me I shouldn't. It's a little annoying. I like giving you gifts every once and a while, so stop protesting. It's not as if I give you presents all that often, so I'd appreciate it if you'd let me enjoy it when I do." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small black jewelry box and handed it to her.

Calliope flipped the box open and looked at the gold necklace resting daintily inside. Molded into a heart outline, three gold prongs curved into the empty center, each ending in a small aquamarine gemstone. With the tip of her finger, she gently touched each of the stones before looking up.

"Aquamarine…"

"Your favorite. And Emeline's birthstone. There's three stones – one for each of us and because her birthday is the third. There's one for her as well, but I thought it would be better to wait until she's older."

Her eyes were watery as she pulled it out of it's box and looked up at him. He took the gold jewelry from her and waited while she turned around and lifted her hair. Once the necklace was securely around her neck, she turned back around and kissed him, giving him a heady idea of what would happen later tonight.

"I don't know how I got so lucky, Dr. Reid, but I'm not letting you go."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer stayed silent while the appetizers were passed around and eaten, speaking as sparingly as he could get away with, and still Brenda managed to find something to pick about. Though, she never seemed to have any problem with finding ammunition.

She was giving him a headache and he really wanted some vodka or something really, really strong, but ordering anything but the glass of wine they all had ordered would be a terrible idea.

"William Cole called for you yesterday," Brenda told Calliope nonchalantly, as if Spencer weren't even there. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her close her eyes and clench her jaw against saying anything she'd regret. "He's going to France in a month to look at some art. You should give him a call, Callie."

"Wasn't William Cole the boy that went streaking at the Yale-Harvard game a few years back?" Keely asked innocently, coming to the rescue with a wink at Spencer, who smiled at her gratefully. "I think he was. You know, if there's one man who should never be naked, he would be it."

Ben started laughing, nearly knocking over his wine, but Brenda simply scowled at Keely's comment. "That must be a different person."

"No… I think she's right," Trisha nodded. "He was the TA in my advanced criminal law seminar last fall. He was the unfortunate streaker."

"Okay!" Ben interjected before they could delve into that particular topic any further. "Callie, you said you were working on a new piece?"

"Pieces," she nodded at her grandfather. "I'm working on a new collection. It's new. I've never done anything quite liked it, so I'm hoping it comes out like I'm imagining it. I spoke to Amanda and Brittnee at This Century in Williamsburg and they're going to come up in a few weeks after I have more pieces to see if they're interested."

"So when can we see them?" Trisha grinned. "Family gets to see first, right?"

"Not this time," Calliope smiled widely. "I want you to see it all at once instead of one piece at a time. You have to get the full effect of this one."

"Oh, come on!" Keely frowned. "I bet you let Spencer see them."

"She hasn't," Spencer shook his head, smiling at Keely. "She won't let me see them at all."

"What would you know about art anyway?" Brenda sneered at him. "You have no idea what the value of her art is."

"Mammy!" Calliope hissed, grabbing Spencer's hand under the tablecloth. "Stop it. Please, Mammy. His opinion about my work is just as important to me as yours and everyone else's at this table. So, please, stop."

"Anyways! Mammy, Trish and I have something to tell you."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"You need to drive," Spencer said dully, handing her the keys. "I don't think I'll reach the pedals tonight. I feel very small."

"I'm so sorry, String Bean," Calliope wrapped her arm around his waist and hugged him. "She was in fine form tonight, wasn't she?"

"Not even Keely and Trisha's engagement phased her for more than thirty minutes. She mentioned seven different men and then listed their qualifications. She gave you Michael's phone number. Just reached across the table and gave it to you."

"I'm sorry, Spencer. I'm really, really sorry. You don't have to see her again for a while though."

"She felt your ribs and then spent ten minutes telling me that I wasn't taking good enough care of you."

"I know, Spencer. Come on, Baby. In the car. Let's get you some coffee. We both need several cups of coffee. And maybe some whiskey. Or vodka. God, I can't believe her."

The entire ride back to Fredericksburg, Spencer stared out the window, holding Calliope's hand over the gearshift. Calliope ran her thumb over his hand soothingly and agreed with him whenever he spoke. It generally took about an hour or so to recover from a visit with Brenda and they were both exhausted.

"Wh-what did you do with Michael's number?"

"I threw it in the trash when I went to the bathroom, Spencer. Don't worry. I don't want Michael. I've already turned him down in person. He's a dull, pretentious heir with no personality and no brain. I don't want him, Spencer, and I don't want any of the other men Mammy brought up tonight. I told you, String Bean. I picked you and I would pick you again today."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The water was nice and hot and Calliope took a breath and slide down in the bathtub until she was entirely submerged and the jets blew her hair around. Popping up, she gasped for air and settling down, enjoying the smell of the lavender bubble bath and the feel of the jets against her skin. She dried her hands on the washcloth and grabbed her book.

Her cup of coffee was half gone when the bathroom door opened suddenly.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't reali –" Spencer tried to turn around awkwardly and make to leave, but Calliope started giggling and put her book down.

"Spencer, it's okay. Come here. Join me. I know you know the tub's big enough for two," she shook her head and rolled her eyes at his awkwardness. "Seriously Spencer? I think Mammy messed your brain up. Get in."

"Alright…" he hesitated a moment and turned around. "Close your eyes."

"For what?" Calliope smiled. "I hate to break it to you, Magician, but I've already seen you naked once or twice."

Finally, after several minutes of teasing and hemming and hawing, Spencer sat in the tub with her and leaned against her chest while her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms hugged his shoulders. Tilting his head back, he caught her lips with his and kissed her gently, slowly exploring her mouth with his as if for the first time.

"I think we have this backwards," Spencer joked. "I think I'm supposed to be behind you."

"Tell that to Julia Roberts."

Spencer's eyes shifted slightly as he searched his brain for a moment before finding the reference. "Pretty Woman?"

"Yup."

"I actually liked that movie."

"That's good. I've made you watch it enough. It'd stink if you didn't like it."

"Very true. What were you reading?"

"_The Poems and Plays of Tennyson_."

"Ah. Tennyson again."

"Hey. I like Tennyson's poems."

"He's alright. Wordsworth is better."

"Well, I guess genius doesn't provide good taste," Calliope teased, pressing a kiss behind his ear and dragged her nails gently over his chest.

"If I have bad taste, what does that say about the fact that I picked you?" He smiled and put a hand over hers to stop the patterns she drew with her fingernails. His body was reacting to her actions, but he wanted to sit with her for a while and recover from dinner with her family, just enjoy talking to her. If she continued, he wouldn't be able to resist her. "Read to me?"

"Alright," Calliope kissed him again and dried her hands before picking up the book. "Any requests?"

Spencer shook his head no and rested his head on her collarbone and closed his eyes, listening as she shifted the stiff pages of the old book until she stilled, deciding on a poem. He loved listening to her read to him. The calm, steady way her voice sounded to him when she read always calmed him and made him feel wonderfully safe and loved.

"Half a league, half a league, half a league onward, all in the valley of Death rode the six hundred. 'Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns' he said: Into the valley of Death rode the six hundred," her voice was soft and gentle in his ear as she rested her cheek against his temple and he listened while the poem come to life behind his closed eyes.

"'Forward, the Light Brigade!' Was there a man dismay'd? Not tho' the soldier knew some one had blunder'd: Theirs not to make replay, theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die: Into the valley of Death rode the six hundred."

Her foot ran up and down his leg teasingly and he had to focus on her voice to ignore the sensations it sent through him. The more she moved in the slow, repeating fashion, the more he wanted to forget the book and just kiss her.

"Cannon to the right of them, cannon to the left of them, cannon in front of them volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, boldly they rode and well, into the jaws of Death, into the mouth of Hell rode the six hundred."

She'd picked him. No matter what Brenda told him or how many men she 'recommended' or relayed messages for, Calliope was sitting in the bathtub reading to him, not to anyone else. Her foot and fingernails were teasing _his_ skin and her breath was warm against _his_ ear.

"Flash'd all their sabers bare, flash'd as they turned in air sabring the gunners there, charging an army while all the world wonder'd: Plunged into the battery-smoke right thro' the line they broke; Crossack and Russian reel'd from the sabre-stroke shatter'd and sunder'd. They they rode back, but not not the six hundred."

Unable to resist any longer, he kissed her collarbone and sighed happily when her fingers tangled in his hair, scrapping against his scalp, massaging gently the way she did when he had a headache after work.

"Cannon to the right of them, cannon to the left of them, cannon behind them volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, while horse and hero fell, they that had fought so well came thro' the jaws of Death, back from the mouth of Hell, all that was left of them, left of the six hundred."

He was her hero. He was her String Bean, her Magician. He belonged to her. And she belonged to him, no matter who told him he wasn't good enough for her. She'd picked him. She literally could have had any man she wanted, but she'd picked him. He was the one she wanted.

"When can their glory fade? O the wild charge they made! All the world wonder'd. Honour the charge they made! Honour the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred!"

Calliope closed the book, let it fall to the stone surrounding the tub with a thud and kissed him. He pulled her around to until she sat in front of him and wrapped her legs around his waist. Spencer groaned against her mouth when she pressed his back to the wall of the tub and moved against him."

"Mine," she whispered possessively, kissing her way down his neck and grinding her hips to his.

"Always yours," he told her, pulling her back up to kiss her fully. "Always yours. Mine."

"Just for you."

Yes, she was his. Somehow, by some miracle, she was his and he was more than willing to be hers.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I have nothing to say about CBS's decision. I hate it, I think it's wrong and I'm incredibly disappointed. I don't know what I'm going to do about J.J. in this story. I think that decision will have to wait until September to see if I end up following the canon Criminal Minds and have whatever happens to J.J. in the show also happen in the story or if I say "SCREW YOU, CBS!" and keep the team the way it is. It'll probably depend on how they write her out. If they kill her off, I swear to God, I'll flip shit.**

**My Mum is doing great, for those who know. The surgery went perfectly and she's home now. We just have a long road of physical therapy ahead, but hopefully she'll recovery swimmingly and her new knee will be awesome.**

**World Cup - well... I'm just so confused. Nothing's going the way I expected it to. All my teams (USA, Italia, México, and England) are out, so I have to find someone else to root for. Though, the USA put in an amazing effort and I'm so incredibly proud of them! I love real football. I don't understand American football, and I feel perfectly entitled to say that because I went to every single American football game for my high school for four years. Still hate it. Real football though, YAY! Is it just me, or are the black footballers on the USA team freakishly hot? So much better than the white players. Except for Howard. I'm oddly attracted to him even though he's married and not that great looking. I love him anyways. haha**

**Pictures of Calliope's outfit and the necklace Spencer gave her are in Photobucket! Under "Outfits" and "Presents" respectively. :o)**

**Okay! I'm off. I hope you like it! Thanks for reading and, please, tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	38. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Confidence is the sexist thing a woman can have." – Aimee Mullins_

o o o o

28 April, 2010

"Okay… well… just do whatever you need to to make sure Bernard passes inspection, okay?" Calliope looked concernedly at the dying blue Vovlo sitting on the lift in the garage. "Seriously, whatever you have to do, okay, Dean? Forget about money, whatever you have to do, however much it costs, to get Bernard to pass the state inspection."

"Why do women name their cars?" Dean asked, wiping his grease stained hands on his faded, ripped blue jeans. Grabbing a monkey wrench out of his father's oversized red toolbox, he shifted around in the bottom drawer for a pair of snap ring pliers he knew were in here somewhere and smiled at Calliope.

"Bernard's not my car. I would never buy Bernard. He's… uh… a little too slow and rickety for my taste. You should know that by now. You and your dad know my cars. You've done the maintenance since I got to Fredericksburg. My cars' names are Slyvia and Elphaba. You know Slyvia. You were drooling over her last week, remember?"

"Yeah, of course I remember. She's only the most beautiful car I've ever seen up close," he nodded, remembering the gorgeous Aston Martin Calliope had brought in last week for an oil change.

"Bernard belongs to Spencer. You have to get him to pass, Dean. You have to get him to pass," Calliope chewed nervously on the brightly neon yellow fingernails of her left hand.

"I promise I'll do my best," the young man shook his head ruefully at her, "but I can't promise the thing'll pass. This thing has two wheels in the junkyard already."

"Don't talk like that! Bernard can hear you. You'll hurt his feelings."

"You are, by far, the strangest woman I have ever met," Dean rolled his eyes and sat down on the ground, positioning himself over a rolling board and rolled himself under the Volvo armed with his tools. "Hand me the small toolbox with the wheels on it, will ya?"

"What? You want the strangest woman ever touching your tools? I might pass on my disease of strangeness," Calliope joked and grabbed the blue metal box. "Jeeze, this thing is heavy. I can barely lift it. Here."

Calliope rolled the box under the car to Dean and hopped up on the workbench next to some kind of saw that was built into the table. Staring at it, she knew the tool had a rather obvious name, but couldn't figure out what it was called. Looking down at her hand, she cringed and lifted it up for disgusted inspection.

"If you're sitting on the workbench, you're probably sitting on the used motor oil Jacob spilt earlier. And it's a table saw." Dean was still underneath the car

"How do you read my mind? And thanks for the heads up. You could have given it to me two minutes ago if you knew I was going to jump up here without looking first," Calliope tried to scrape some of the oil off, but simply spread it around.

"Your mind's not all that complicated, Calliope. And if I did that, where would my entertainment be?"

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult. Pers! Perses, no! Bad dog! Bad, Perses, bad!" Calliope trailed motor oil along the garage floor as she ran over to Perses just in time to grab the puppy out of the way of the avalanche of used tires he'd knocked over. "Bad dog! Curiosity killed the Titans, Perses! You are the worst dog ever, Pers. Bad, bad dog. Dean, I am so sorry."

"How bad is it?"

"Um… what's a one and what's a ten?" Calliope eyed the destruction her beloved little shadow had caused in his wake.

"One would be he knocked over two tires. Ten would be the entire pile plus the snow tires."

"Seven?"

"Huh. Not as bad as it sounded. The mutt's loosin' his touch."

"Would you rather him destroy your garage?" Perses snuggled into Calliope's arms and rested his head in the crook of her elbow, apparently exhausted by his adventure on Mount Tire. "You're a terrible little monster, you know that Pers?"

Perses looked up at her and yawned before settling back down.

"There's a pair of jumpers in the closet over there if you want to change so you don't drag motor oil all over. They'll probably be way too big for you, but they'll be clean."

"You're an angel, Dean. You've got wings, baby," Calliope placed Perses carefully in the back of Dean's pickup and waltzed over to the closet Dean had been talking about. "Wow. You weren't kidding. Who do these belong to? A giant?"

"Callie, you're a midget. I had to add a special adjustment to the seats in your cars so you could see over the hood."

"A fact I will deny until the day they put me in the ground. And probably even after that."

"Anyways, everyone's a giant next to you. My sister's a giant next to you." There was a loud clang as Dean dropped the socket wrench into the metal box and grabbed the power drill. "You'd make the perfect hobbit. Or dwarf. You already have the hair."

"Make your point before I take my business elsewhere, buster."

"Why are you so surprised the suits are big? Ever thought maybe they aren't big, you're just small?"

"Not possible," Calliope shook her head, smiling as she yanked one of the blue uniforms off its hanger. The name patch read 'Jacob' in neat white script.

"Of course. I'm sure cabinets are just built too high, right? It's not that you're too short to reach them, it's that the carpenters put them up too high."

"Exactly. I'm glad you understand, Dean. I'll be right back. I'm stealing a plastic bag for my ode du motor oil."

"Knock yourself out."

"A dangerous phrase around me. I just might," Calliope tucked into the bathroom while Dean's laughter was drowned out by the power drill as he used it to loosen a few screws.

"Okay… if these rusty-ass screws ruin my tools, it's going on your tab."

"Go for it. So. How do I look?" Dean rolled himself out from under Bernard, glanced at her, promptly started laughing and rolled back under. Calliope had to roll the arms and legs up so many times that a good two inches of fabric circled her scrawny wrists and ankles. Scowling, Calliope grabbed a bolt lying on a shelf and chucked it at him, but her aim was terrible and the bolt just tumbled harmlessly across the floor. "If you weren't such a damn good mechanic, I'd really dislike you."

"Lucky for me, then."

"Hey, Dean! I brought you lunch," Brianne's voice filled the garage and Calliope waved when Brianne walked into view, stopping abruptly when she saw Calliope's latest getup. "You look like an Oompa-Loompa."

"I hate you both!" Calliope huffed, reaching back into the pickup to get her dog.

"Love you too, Calliope," Brianne teased, rolling Dean out from under the car with her foot and squatting down to kiss him quickly before rolling him back under. "I'm putting your lunch in the fridge for when you're ready, okay, Babe? But it's way too early for lunch now anyways."

"Thanks, Bri. I'd eat with you, but bringing this hunk of junk back to life is going to take all day. Or month."

"You can't eat with her even if you wanted to," Calliope grinned, tossing the bag of motor oil covered clothes into the trash bin. There would be no getting that stuff out of the fabric. "Because I'm stealing your girlfriend for the day."

"You are?" Dean and Brianne asked the question simultaneously and Brianne looked at her strangely.

"Yup. We're going on a buying trip."

"Ohhh yay! I love buying trips. Where are we going this time?"

"Surprise. I'll bring her back in one piece, Dean. Take care of Bernard. Please. I'm begging you. Okay! We're off." Calliope put Perses back down onto the ground and headed out of the garage. "C'mon, Bri. We have to go back to my place so I don't spend the day conducting business looking like one of the Village People."

"Where's the car?"

"On the lift. We're walking back to my house."

"Walking?"

"It's only three miles, Bri. Where's your sense of adventure? C'mon, Pers. Let's go home."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid leaned against the desk and listened to the officer's question before responding. "That's a really good question. Generally, CSI has been to the scene before our team gets there, especially when we first get called on the case. Oftentimes, however, if the murder happens while we're on the case, we sometimes get there before or at the same time as the CSI techs. We have training in the CSI field, not as extensively as they do, but enough to know the process and how to behave on the scene.

"Looking at what is and isn't at a scene is very important to profiling because, if looked at properly, it can lead to understanding about the crimes perpetrator. Much can be yielded from what a criminal does or doesn't do and that behavior is at the scene. We'll talk about that more this afternoon. I'll see you at two," Reid nodded at the officer who'd been making at wrap it up motion and pointing at his watch. Grabbing his ever-present messenger bag, he started putting his stuff away so he could go and grab lunch before the second half of the lecture this afternoon.

"Excuse me, Dr. Reid?" Glancing up, he saw the young police officer who'd been taking diligent notes and been paying attention more raptly than most of his colleagues. At first guess, Reid put the officer at twenty-four, maybe twenty-five. Nodding, he waited for him to continue. "I'm Deputy Travis Hayes. I just had a quick question, if you don't mind."

"Of course not."

"It's more of a personal question."

Reid nodded.

"Do you have relationships?"

"Excuse me?"

"That came out wrong. I'm sorry. I'm always phrasing things wrong. I mean, are you able to have relationships and be a profiler at the same time?"

"I'm assuming you mean romantic relationships."

"Yeah. And friendships," the young man looked embarrassed and Reid saw a lot of himself in the man. "I was looking into applying to the FBI and, from what I read, I can't see how BAU agents make relationships work."

"With immense difficulty," Reid answered honestly. "It's very hard, the divorce rate's very high, but you find ways to make it work."

"Do you have…?"

"I have a girlfriend," Reid saved the man from finishing his question. "Calliope. We live a half-hour from Quantico. We have a dog and a three-year-old daughter, Emeline."

"So you've made it work for a while."

"Yes. With a lot of hard work, we've been figuring it out."

"Is keeping a relationship with her and balancing your job stressful?"

"Of course. This job is stressful by itself. It demands not only time, but it's very emotionally and mentally taxing. Things you bring home with you, no matter how hard to try to leave them at the office. It's exceptionally hard to find balance. I… I got lucky in finding Calliope and Emeline.

It's about priorities. It's about figuring out where your priorities are and sticking with them. They, Calliope and Eme, come first. This job comes second. And that's something you can't forget, but is very easy to. Sometimes, you get caught up in helping everyone else that you can forget where your priorities need to be. You think you're doing good in the world, and you are, so you justify putting them off 'just for this one case.' Then you go home and realize what you've done. Completely unintentionally. What you have to remember is that you can't help others if you don't help yourself first."

"Have you ever forgotten?"

"Yes. I've come close to loosing her, but, thankfully for me, Calliope seems to have some sort of attachment to me," Reid offered a half-smile and settled the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "She's always forgiven me. Not without some shouting and several shoes, but we've worked it out."

"Shoes?" Deputy Hayes looked confused.

"I live with a very, very strange woman, Deputy Hayes. She's like her own tropical storm." This time his smile was more to himself than to the deputy. "And, God help me, Emeline's turning out just like her."

The policeman seemed to be contemplating what Reid said and Reid took that chance to excuse himself. Grabbing his coffee, the young genius walked to the back of Durango, Colorado's police department where a familiar someone leaned against the wall waiting.

"You just make a hobby of coming to listen to FBI profiling seminars?"

"What can I say? The criminal mind fascinates me."

"Learn anything?"

"You carry yourself with more authority now and speak with more confidence. You don't fumble over words or get flustered as often. You dress better, but still wear mismatched socks. The leg's doing better, but you favour your right. You're happy." He stopped and watched Reid for a second before continuing with a thoughtful smile on his face. "And, every ten minutes or so, your hand goes into your pocket to hold a picture."

"A picture? You sure?"

"Positive."

Reid pulled the piece of paper from his pocket and smoothed it out, smiling. Emeline and Calliope smiled up at the two men, Emelines' blurred hand obscuring part of her sunny face.

"Nice to know you haven't lost your touch. Though, I would be more impressed if you could tell me the type of paper it'd been printed on."

"Recycled copy paper from Office Depot. It's the only paper you ever buy and film paper would be too stiff to fit in your pocket without detection."

"Now I'm impressed, Gideon."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"I can't believe I'm on a private jet," Brianne gushed excitedly as she squished herself around in her seat, turning around to look everywhere. Dahlia's purple and white emblem was stitched into the top center each plush cream coloured seat and rich purple curtains covered the windows. "Oh my God, this is so cool. Okay, comparing this to the only other plane I've ever been on, that Delta flight from Wyoming to here, is like comparing Bernard to Sylvia. Or… a hamster to a… I don't know where I was going with that comparison. Or Danielle Steel to Jane Austen."

"Danielle Steel to Jane Austen! Don't ever say that again. Ms. Austen would rise again just to smite you for suggesting it! You_cannot_ compare _Sense and Sensibility _to _Sisters_! Brianne, you hurt me. I don't know if you should be working at The Hobbit Hole with that kind of taste level."

"And, yet, you know what books to compare?"

"I saw it at the grocery store. I had to know what the big fuss over her novels was about. And then I had to claw my eyes out and rinse my brain with bleach."

"They did a fantastic job with the eye replacement surgery."

"You're giving me a headache. Marta, may I have a… Awww, you remembered!" Calliope grinned and took the mojito the stewardess offered her. Dipping her pinkie into the drink, she pulled out a mint leaf and popped it in her mouth. "This is why you're my absolute favourite."

"Well, when I hear _Wind Dancer_ has a flight date and Ms. Sellers is on board, I just can't stay away," Marta smiled and handed Calliope a napkin.

"How many times am I going to have to ask you to call me Calliope?"

"Once more, Ms. Sellers. As always. Would you like a drink, Ms. Scheiner?"

"Uh… Do you have Coke?"

"Of course," Marta smiled and turned to walk back to the galley.

"You know, I think the real reason you like working the _Wind Dancer_ is because I amuse you," Calliope said thoughtfully, watching Perses gnawing on a Greenie and remembering the conversation with Spencer. He'd insisted that they not feed Perses any treats that weren't good for him the day she'd brought home a bag a Beggin' Strips. She didn't let Spencer win all that many fights, so she deciding giving him that one would balance the ratio out somewhat.

"That and the pay is more than generous," Marta's voice had a hint of laughter in it when she handed Brianne her drink and a napkin. "Besides, who knows when I'll get a picture of you doing something scandalous to sell to the tabloids?"

Calliope liked Marta. She always maintained a professional attitude, but they had managed to find a balance between professionalism and a casual friendship. Marta had a biting sense of humour, a very dry and ironic sense of humour that Calliope absolutely loved. That's why she paid what she did ensure Marta would come back. She had no qualms about paying more to get what she wanted and if paying Marta more than what one would typically pay a stewardess would ensure having Marta working she would pay more.

Brianne looked from Calliope to Marta, not quite sure if the comment was meant in jest or not. But, when Calliope just smirked and sipped her mojito, Brianne went back to looking around the plane in awe. Compared to the home Brianne had left behind to move to Virginia, owning this plane was simply unconceivable. Imagining the world her friend had grown up in was more than difficult.

"Okay, so I have the day planned out," Calliope pulled a small notebook out of her purse and flipped it open to find her page. "It only takes an hour to get to New York, so we'll have the entire afternoon to shop. We'll hit Westsiders, the Strand, St. Marks, Books of Wonder, Argosy, Housing Works because I like their coffee, Kinokuniya because I know you'd love to visit a Japanese bookstore, Forbidden Planet always has some good pieces, Three Lives & Co, Left Bank, Printed Matter Inc, Shakespeare & Co, Idewild, Book Culture and Bauman Rare Books."

"That's a lot of book stores in one afternoon," Brianne looked concerned.

"Not if you know how to shop efficiently and if you know what you're looking for," Calliope said, jotting down a note to herself. "Oh. And we have to stop at Simon & Schuster. The Shire is in desperate need of some new books. We'll find most of our stuff at the Strand, Westsiders and Bauman. They always get the best selection of rare books."

"How much are we spending today?"

"An amount too big to mention."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer sat across from Jason Gideon for the first time in several years. His mentor looked older now, more lined and tired, but there was a light in his brown eyes that Spencer hadn't seen in a long time. His hair was more grey than black now and longer than the buzz cut he'd had the last time Spencer had seen him. The wavy hair was brushed neatly and his grey beard was trimmed. With his wire-rimmed glassed, Jason no longer looked like the infallible profiler he had once been, but more… _human_. Breakable, yes, but more secure in who he was and his place in the world than he had been after Sarah's murder.

"This place is nice," Spencer said as he looked around the pub Jason had suggested for lunch. "I don't think I've ever had lunch in an underground pub."

"Hey, Jason. Haven't seen you all week. You want your usual?"

"Please," Jason nodded.

"Is this your son?"

"Sort of," Jason said after a moment's hesitation. "Charlotte, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is Charlotte Morrison. A friend of mine."

"So, you're the famous Doctor Reid I've heard so much about. Jason just loves to brag about you," Charlotte smiled kindly, crows feet trimming her clear green eyes, and Spencer gave one of his trademark waves. Spencer raised an eyebrow at Jason, who only shrugged. "I can't believe I finally get to meet you. I was beginning to wonder if he'd made you up. Nice to know he's not as crazy as he let's people think."

Spencer caught the affectionate wink the woman gave his friend and he grinned to himself, making sure not to let the smile show on his face. Charlotte seemed nice and, in some ways, made him think of Calliope. Seeing Charlotte was almost like seeing a vision of his sweetheart in her fifties. Except Calliope would probably still being wearing obnoxiously bright clothing rather than the muted colours Charlotte wore.

"If you tell me what you want, I'll leave you two kids alone," she pulled a pen from behind her ear, dislodging a bit of her faded sandy hair in the process. She might as well have not asked, because the minute he ordered she said, "No, no, no. You don't want that." and changed his order for him with a "trust me, you'll love it."

"Is she always that pushy?"

Drawing the corners of his mouth in thoughtfully, Jason shifted his gaze towards the ceiling as if to check his memories and nodded. "Almost always. She's never actually brought me what I ordered, so I finally stopped ordering and just let her bring me whatever she felt like. I find that easier than arguing. Arguing has no effect. She does what she wants anyways."

Yes. This behaviour sounded faintly familiar.

Lunch passed uneventfully and Spencer enjoyed every moment. They spoke about everything and anything, from Jason's cabin up by Molas Lake an hour north in Silverton where Spencer would be staying while in Colorado to Calliope's sluggish, but constant weight gain to the team to Henry's birth and Haley's death. Talking to Jason felt like talking to his father, or, rather, his father as he should have been. Jason Gideon was the father he'd always wanted but hadn't gotten.

Yes, Spencer's relationship with William Reid was slightly better than it had been, but that wasn't saying much. He made excuses when his father called, had Calliope say he wasn't in, hit the 'quiet' button so the ringing would stop. He answered the calls and e-mails every once and a while, but always felt such bitter resentment afterwards that he then avoided by avoiding contact again.

With Jason, the father-son relationship was effortless. Even after years apart, despite Jason's abrupt and ill-explained desertion, everything was right, easy.

Jason insisted on paying and, with a parting way to Charlotte, who was now harassing a couple who obviously had never met anyone quite like her, Spencer followed Jason up the stairs to the street entrance. He blinked a few times after walking out of the dark basement into the sun and squinted at Jason when he realized he'd said something.

"I didn't hear you."

"I have to get a new watch battery. Do you have some time or do you have to get back?"

"I have an hour and a half before the afternoon session," Spencer shrugged. "Sure. Let's go."

"It's just right down the street," Jason gestured as they started walking.

"This street looks like Caroline Street," Spencer commented as they passed quant little shops and restaurants.

"That's where her bookstore is?"

"Yes. If you ever make it back to Virginia, I'll take you there. It has some very interesting books. A very… _eclectic_ collection."

The bell above the door rang softly when the two men entered the jewelry shop. Jason went straight to the white-haired man behind the counter, but Spencer walked around, looking at the display cases. There were several cases of Native American made jewelry with more turquoise than he'd ever seen in one place before. Several beautiful silver pieces glinted happily in the spotlights. He stopped in front of a case of engagement rings. Nothing particular caught his eye, besides a rather odd looking ring that he paused over simply because he'd never seen anything quite like it.

"Anything I can help you with?" An elderly woman had come out of the back to stand next to him.

"No, I don't think so," he offered an awkward half-smile.

"Do you have a girl in mind?" Spencer's expression softened in spite of himself when red hair and hazel eyes flitted through his mind and the woman smiled knowingly. "What's her taste in jewelry like?"

"She likes almost anything so long as it sparkles, but she's particularly fond of the twenties. She likes art deco."

The woman's blue eyes light up like Fourth of July sparklers and she broke out in a smile that seemed far too big for her face. Somewhere in those two sentences, Spencer had uttered a magic combination of words that sent her into giddy action. He followed obediently as she crossed to the far corner of the room where a small display cabinet was nearly hidden. What could it hurt to look?

"I thought you had a ring?" Jason asked as he joined Spencer, his arm watch-less.

"I do. I was thinking about giving it back though. It's not the right ring. It's beautiful, but not her."

"Estate jewelry," the woman declared proudly as she took her place opposite them. Immediately, Spencer saw what had prompted her reaction. Sitting proudly at the top of the case, a diamond engagement ring waited. It might as well have worn a tag with Calliope's name written there. Even if he looked for another twenty years, he knew he'd never find a ring quite this perfect again.

"Made in nineteen twenty-one. Art deco. Old European Cut diamonds. The center is three and a half carats, and the eight on the side total point four carats. It's platinum. It has two matching wedding bands for either side of the engagement ring."

Spencer took the engagement ring when she offered and inspected it closer. The diamonds were clear and stunning, but what he liked most about the ring was the engraving art on three sides of the band. The only part of the ring without the simple, geometric and wheat engraving was the portion that lay flush against the finger. He looked at the two wedding bands she handed him and put them together to see the set how it would look on Calliope's finger. Perfect. It was just perfect.

Upon seeing the price handwritten on a small manila tab attached with a piece of string, he was glad he never spent much of his paycheck. He knew the tidy sum in his account would surprise most people, but he'd never had any real reason to spend the money. Besides the portion of his wages that were garnished automatically to Bennington to take care of his mother, most of what wasn't necessary to living sat in his savings account accumulating interest.

"It's always been my favourite piece," the woman smiled happily. "It's always been passed over for something more modern. Such a shame. It's so beautiful."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The piles of books on the table set up specifically for Calliope's visit towered over the short woman's head. Carefully flipping through a copy of _The Things They Carried_, Calliope inspected the binding and edges of the pages. Weighing the book in her hand, she opened it back to the front page and studied the inscription again. In moment that some would have considered hasty, she placed the book in the rejected pile and picked up another.

She slid the two books out of their box and placed them on the table, picking up the first volume. Running her hand along the spine, she felt the slight wear and nodded, but what the nod meant was a mystery to anyone but her.

"Those are the Complete Sherlock Holmes. Nineteen fifty-three. They're signed by Doyle. One of a hundred and forty-seven copies. The signed portion is on a limitation page bound into the spine. Three thousand dollars."

"There are chips at the foot of volume one," Calliope noted aloud, handing the book to Brianne. "And at the head of volume two. And this isn't the original box."

"The slip-covers are missing," Brianne commented.

"Two thousand six hundred and fifty," Calliope countered, looking up at the middle-aged man sitting across the table.

"They're signed by Doyle the year he died."

"They're incomplete, Max. And they been nicked."

Max sighed. "Twenty-nine hundred.

"Twenty-seven fifty."

"Done," Max said after thinking for a moment and wrote the title and amount into the ledger. Calliope didn't wait, but handed the second volume to Brianne to be put in the purchase pile and picked up another boxed set. She carefully pulled out the five volumes, placing them on the table in a line.

"_Les Miserables_ by Victor Hugo. Illustrated copy. Lynd Ward's the illustrator. One of fifteen hundred signed copies. Two hundred dollars."

"The words on the spines of one through four are faded. Minor soiling to the covers. Has the slipcase been repaired?"

"Yes."

"There's still some chipping on the edge. And there's no glassine," Calliope ran the tips of her fingers over one of the illustrations. "If you replace the glassine, I'll give you two seventy-five for them."

Max nodded and made the notation in the ledger. "I'll send you the glassine when they come in. Ah. That one, I think you'll like." Max smiled when Calliope picked up the clamshell case. "I held that one specially for you. It's from eighteen-fifteen. _Hebrew Melodies_ by Lord Byron. First edition, first issue. Page one-oh-three and one-oh-four. The clam case in custom made just for it. Original wrappers, but they've been rebacked. Three thousand five hundred."

"Deal." The pages might have been lined in gold for the way Calliope looked at them. "Put them on my personal tab. Max, this is beautiful."

"I thought you'd like them," Max said as Calliope slid the wrappers back into their case. "Ms. Scheiner, you're holding _Carte Blache_ by Jean Cocteau. Published in Paris in nineteen-twenty. One of now nineteen hundred and forty-five copies. There were originally two thousand copies, but some of have been destroyed. It's inscribed with a drawing by the author. Seven hundred."

Calliope looked over at the book in Brianne's hand and, after a bit, shook her head no. "Is that the end of the pile for today?"

"It is," Max nodded, totaling the ledgers.

"Bri, stay and watch while the boys box up the books and then oversee them being put in the car," Calliope said distractedly as she pulled two checkbooks out of her purse.

"I know the drill," Brianne smiled. "I can't believe some of the books we got today."

"The trip was definitely worth it," she agreed. "I'll be up front. Let's get some food. I'm starving."

"Thank God. My stomach's been growling since we go here."

"Bri! You should have said something," Calliope walked backwards towards the counter with an exasperated look on her face. "We'll eat as soon as I pay and the books are in the car. Okay, Max. What's my damage come to today?"

Calliope had handed him the check for The Hobbit Hole's purchases and was just about to fill in the amount for her personal purchases when a stack of glossy new books caught her eye. She held up a finger and walked towards the display of black books.

"_Running: A Memoir_," Calliope read aloud the red script off the sleek black dust jacket. "By Jason Gideon. Hey Max! How many of these books do you have?"

"They were just released. We put them out this morning. We bought fifty copies. Trial run to see if they sell before we order more."

"I want all fifty of them," she said, reading the inside of the cover.

"Which account?" Max had long since stopped questioning Calliope's purchases.

"Just add it to mine. I'll sort it out later." Calliope flipped the book over and looked at the familiar face before she tucked the book she was holding into her purse as a stock boy came to box up the books he'd only unboxed that morning. Walking back to the counter, she wrote in the new total and signed the check with a flourish.

"You ready?" Brianne popped up next to her, shouldering her purse.

"Just about. My phone's ringing. Who the heck's calling me? Dean. Oh, please be good news. Hey, Dean. What's the verdict?" Her face tensed and her eyebrows drew together while Dean spoke. "So, he can't pass without a new engine and a new transmission? Well, can you get them? They don't make them anymore… lovely. How hard are they to find? Wow. Okay… okay, well, I guess I'll pick him up tonight. Thanks Dean."

"That didn't sound good."

"It wasn't. Bernard has six months to live."

"So there's nothing they can do?"

"Not without a new engine and transmission."

"Poor Bernard."

"Poor Bernard? Poor me! I have to tell Spencer."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer returned to the police department later that afternoon with his bank account considerably lighter than it had been that morning. He'd called the bank first to make sure they didn't decline the transaction as fraud. Twenty eight thousand dollars at a jewelry store in Colorado was definitely out of the norm for his purchases and would have raised all the red flags the bank possessed. Now, though, the rings were safely in their box in his pocket.

The afternoon session passed quickly and before Spencer realized how fast the time went, the day was over and he'd gotten into Jason's truck to head up to Silverton. Sitting on the back porch, the beauty of his surroundings hit him squarely in the chest. No wonder Jason seemed more at ease. A person would have to _try_ to be stressed out here.

Beyond the cabin, Molas Lake sparkled in setting sun and he could see canoes and rowboats still doting the water far from Jason's cabin. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he hit Calliope's speed dial and waited while the phone rang.

_"Hey, String Bean,"_ Calliope's voice was tired and Spencer grimaced when he realized he'd woken her up.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I didn't think you'd already gone to bed."

_"It's fine. I fell asleep on the couch watching Gilmore Girls. So, technically I haven't gone to bed."_

"Alright. Was New York a success?"

_"Better than I'd hoped for. Got a lot of great stuff. I even got Grandpa's Christmas present."_

"Yeah? What'd you get him?"

_"A first edition copy of _Hebrew Melodies_. I'll show it to you when you get home."_

"He'll love it."

_"I think it's a safe bet. How'd your thing go? It's your first presentation without anyone else. Did you kick butt?"_

"I don't know if I kicked butt," Spencer laughed at her choice of words, "but it went well."

_"I miss you."_

"I miss you too, Sweetheart. I'll be home soon though. There's a definite homecoming date this time."

_"A date when you'll be home for sure? Wow… I didn't think those existed," Calliope laughed, scratching Perses' head when he looked up. "I weighed myself today. Two more pounds. Stupid ScandiShakes taste nasty, but they work."_

"That's good. So that's nine pounds so far, right?" Calliope didn't say anything. "Calliope, if you're nodding, I can't see it."

_"Sorry! Still half asleep, I guess. Yes. Nine pounds."_

"Okay. That's good."

"_Perses keeps digging your cloths out of the laundry and bringing them to me. It's like he's asking when you're coming home. This dog is definitely a character."_

"He's odd, that's for sure," Spencer rolled his eyes. "Go back to sleep, Calliope. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

_"Sounds like a plan, man. I love you."_

"I love you too. Goodnight."

_"Night."_

The call ended with a click and Spencer looked back out at the water. As beautiful as this place was, it wasn't quite as beautiful as the woman who was probably lifting the dog onto the bed right now before climbing in and turning off the light. He liked it here, but he wished he were there.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hey! I'm back! Sorry for such a long wait, but my mum had knee replacement surgery and I've been taking care of her, so I haven't had much uninterrupted time to focus. And, even when I had time, I was just to stressed to write Calliope and Spencer. They mean so much to me and I wasn't up to it because I knew anything I wrote under that stress level wouldn't be good enough for them. I hope yall forgive me. But it's here now and I hope you like it!**

**Please, tell me what you think, good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	39. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Our worries are not limited to preventing Barcelona from scoring, I think attitude is the most important to this game. I think that who will have the will to impose its game will win, regardless of whether or not Barcelona scores." – Carlo Ancelotti_

o o o o

10 May, 2010

"I thought I'd find you out here."

Esther and Adella both turned their heads towards the barn door opening at the sound of Spencer's voice. Calliope didn't move, but Perses leapt to his feet and bounded out of the stall, down the center of the barn and launched himself at Spencer. Squatting down, Spencer greeted the dog, but kept watching the stall Calliope was holed up in. He could hear her paintbrushes moving over something, but he could tell it wasn't canvas. By now Spencer was very familiar with the sound of paintbrushes against canvas.

He walked towards the stall, Perses following closely at his heel, but Spencer stopped outside of the stall and turned, leaned against the wooden half-wall with his back and facing away from the stall. He knew whatever Calliope was working on, she didn't want anyone to see it yet. Brittnee had left a message on the machine inside saying that the collection had been picked up and they wanted to unveil in September. Whatever Calliope was working on, he'd see it then.

"Emeline's worried about you," Spencer said. "You forgot to call her. I got a very hysterical phone call on the plane ride home."

"I did not forget to call her," Calliope answered, her voice tight and her paintbrush stopped moving. "I didn't call her. On purpose."

"Why didn't you call her?"

"For the past eighteen hours, I've been a resident of Crazytown. I would have scared her even more if I called," Calliope put the paintbrush down and moved away from the easel. "I'm thinking about having my mail forwarded."

"To Crazytown?"

"Yup."

"Permanent move or just temporary?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering if I should have mine forwarded as well," Spencer turned his head and looked down at her when she stepped out of the stall. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, there was a hand smear of olive green paint across her cheek, coating some of her hair above her ear, and tearstains trailed from her puffy eyes. She was wearing her favourite comfort outfit – a worn out pair of jeans and his old CalTech sweatshirt, which now sported a fair array of paints on their cuffs – so he wasn't at all surprised at all when she launched herself into his arms and buried her face into his chest. "I know, Sweetheart."

"No, no, you don't know," she pushed away, leaving paint on his shirt and pacing, spastic and barefoot, in front of him. "I'm used to worrying about you, Spencer. I'm used to going to sleep praying you come home. I'm used to freaking out over Derek and Emily because they always chase after people they probably shouldn't be chasing after! I'm used to lying to Jack by saying of course his daddy's fine. I've reconciled my spaz outs about Dave. I've even managed to deal with my fears about J.J. being hurt!

"However!" Calliope stopped suddenly and turned to stare at him. "I am _not_ used to going to Crazytown over Penelope! She is supposed to be safe in her little cave behind her computers! She is not supposed to be put in danger! She is not supposed to be running after some guy who gets shot in the middle of the night and then dies in front of her! She is not supposed to be – You and the rest of them are supposed to keep her safe! Why was she out there alone?"

"Because she didn't wake anyone up to go with her. She went out to reboot her satellite connection. And she's fine, Calliope. Nothing happened to García."

"Nothing happened? Nothing happened! She watched a man die!" Calliope began pacing again. "One minute us four gorgeous gals are going to see Xanadu and then next you're all being shipped off to Alaska and then I get a hysterical phone call from Ethel! She is not fine, you… you… Damn it, I can't even call you an idiot because you're so ridiculously smart!"

"Calliope, she's going to be fine."

"You are really making me want to hurt you!"

"Okay," Spencer gave a wiry smile and held out his arms. "I'm ready."

"I can't hurt you and you know it, you idiot! It's against the law. It'd have to be self-defense and there's no way in the world I'd convince anyone I'd ever have to defend myself against you."

"I won't tell."

Calliope just rolled her eyes and stared at him. "You seriously overestimate my affection for you."

"I do?"

"You do."

"I don't think so," Spencer smiled and brushed some hair out of his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

"You need a haircut," Calliope sighed and stepped back into his arms, resting her cheek against his chest, the paint she'd transferred to his shirt transferring right back onto her face.

"You need a shower."

"You need a new shirt."

"You need to stop talking," Spencer nudged her forehead up with his nose and leaned down when she looked up. He hugged her tightly to him as he kissed her, smiling when she wrapped her arms around his neck. "And I don't think I've overestimated your affection for me."

"What gave you that idea?" Calliope snagged his bottom lip between her teeth before kissing it. Spencer laughed outright and pulled away to stare at her. She fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled him back, catching his mouth with hers and kissing him deeply. "I don't remember saying you could stop kissing me."

"I don't remember you saying I could start."

"Spencer?"

"Hmmm?"

"Start."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

11 May, 2010

Calliope fell asleep before Spencer did. That wasn't exactly a surprise though; she almost always fell asleep before he did. It was cool for May, probably because of all the rain they'd been having, and Spencer tugged the blanket over them more securely. He smiled slightly when Calliope curled into the covers and had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing when Perses rolled onto his back by Calliope's feet, all four of his paws spread out like he was dreaming of someone rubbing his stomach.

The dog snored. He would pick the strange dog that snored while he slept. Once, Perses had let out a single howl, lifting his head back like he was howling at the moon, and then blinked his eyes open with his head tilted all the way back before looking around like he couldn't quite figure out where he was. He'd gone straight back to sleep afterwards, but Calliope rolled laughing about it for hours afterwards.

Frizzy red hair tickled Spencer's face and, oddly enough, he found it comforting rather than irksome. It was one of the many things he'd gotten used to; sometimes it seemed her mass of curls took up more of the bed than anything else. Each tendril sought out the perfect spot to creep out over the pillow and under the blanket, trying to find the one position that would ensure the most bed possession.

Without thinking about it, Spencer ran his hand over the cotton tank top covering Calliope's back, carefully counting each of her ribs. He was glad he couldn't feel them quite as drastically as he had a month ago. Calliope turned abruptly in her sleep and her hand smacked his throat, jarring him awake. Reaching up, he took her hand and pulled it down, away from his neck.

"No more peas, Mammy," Calliope moaned, burying her face in the pillow and threading her fingers through his. Turning his head, Spencer kissed her hair and smiled, pulling her more securely into his arms; she tried to wiggle away for a few seconds before settling down, still mumbling about peas. "No…. no more peas."

Tonight was the last night they'd have alone together for a long time. Tomorrow, Jill arrived from Uganda and Steve would be joining her on Sunday. They would be staying here, with them. One of the guestrooms had already been set up: the carpet steamed, the comforter dry-cleaned, the sheets washed, the pillows replaced. Spencer spent the past few weeks watching Calliope obsess over every detail. She wanted everything perfect for her sister.

They fought about it once. She'd just changed out the bedding for the fifth time and he made a sarcastic remark about it while pouring food into Perses' bowl. He didn't really remember what happened between the Euro sham knocking the scoop of puppy chow out of his hand and the two of them tumbling backwards over the arm of the couch. Come to think of it, that fight hadn't ended too badly.

Spencer looked down at their tangled fingers and smiled slightly for a few seconds before closing his eyes.

"Peas don't belong in the bathtub…"

Perses sneezed and stood up, shaking himself before extending his front legs and stretching, letting out a big yawn that ended in a stifled snort. He pawed at the bedding a big, scrunching the blankets into an acceptable nest before circling twice and laying down, putting his shoulder down first and then awkwardly rolling the rest of his body down after it. His heavy tail thumped happily a few times before he sneezed one more time and rested his head on Spencer's ankle as if it were a pillow. If Perses were human, he'd have been committed already.

Calliope shifted slightly and removed her face from the pillow, nestling her face in his shirt instead. Rubbing his thumb over her knuckle, he leaned his head down to let her soft frizz tickle his skin. He had almost fallen asleep despite Calliope's continually mumbling about peas, the weight of Perses' skull on his ankle, and the dog's steady snoring when he squeezed his eyes shut in denial at J.J.'s all too familiar ringtone floating over all of the distractions.

Spencer pressing his cheek more firmly into Calliope's hair and held her closer. Not tonight. He didn't want to go tonight. He did not want to go chase demons tonight. Regardless, he disentangled himself from Calliope, rolled over and grabbed his phone.

"Hello?"

_ "Sorry, Spence."_

"Where?"

_ "D.C."_

"How bad?"

_ "I don't know yet. It's classified."_

"Terror alert?" Spencer was awake now.

_ "No. Not yet."_

"Do we know anything?"

_ "All I know is it has to do with a sleeper cell in D.C. The head of the FBI called Strauss directly. Cooper's team was called in too."_

"Damn. I'm on my way. The office, I assume?"

Spencer yawned and dropped the phone on the blanket, snuggling close to Calliope. He waited a few minutes before sighing in resignation and opening his eyes again. Pressing a kiss to Calliope's neck, he whispered in her ear for her to wake up. At first she didn't respond, then she groaned and swatted at him; Calliope pulled her pillow over her head and mumbled unintelligibly.

"I have to go, Sweetheart."

"Ughtneoffftt."

"Calliope, wake up for a second."

"Peas."

"No, Sweetheart. Not peas."

"No. Throw peas. At you." Spencer could barely understand her muffled voice as she pulled harder on the pillow covering her head. "Canned peas. At your head. Ka-pow."

"I have to go to the BAU," Spencer trailed the tips of his fingers over her back in a soothing manner. At this, Calliope pushed the pillow off and turned her head to look at him with bleary, exhausted eyes.

"Did I miss the alarm?" Calliope shoved the blankets off, scrubbing her eyes. "Crap, crap, crap. I have a phone conference meeting with Rome. I'm gonna be late. Shit, fuck, fuck, crap, bah humbug."

Spencer pulled her back as she made to roll out of bed, pulling her close against him and tucking his legs behind hers, startling Perses as his ankle slipped from under the dogs' head. It took a few seconds before Calliope relaxed and melted into his kiss in a way that had become so wonderfully ordinary. "You're not late."

"What?"

"It's one in the morning, Sweetheart." Spencer kissed her again. "I have to go to work."

Calliope groaned – a sound that prompted a pitiful whine from Perses – and pulled the pillow back over her head, mumbling about how much she hated him. Spencer shook her slightly, which only resulted in Calliope whacking him with her fist. Perses started barking when she rolled out of bed and walked, mumbling, into the closet.

"What are you doing?" Spencer followed her into the closet.

"Getting dressed," Calliope yanked her Washington and Lee hoodie off the shelf and pulled it over her pajamas.

"Why?"

"Jack?" Calliope handed him a dark green work shirt and a pair of brown slacks. "Get dressed. I'll drive you."

"I can't pick out my own cloths?"

"Not when you stand there gawking at my butt," Calliope handed him a sandy brown vest as she shoved her feet into pair of black and red plaid flats. Spencer rolled his eyes and took the vest. He started to change while she left for the bathroom. "Why do you have to go?" She mumbled around her toothbrush.

"I… I can't tell you, Sweetheart," Spencer sighed, buttoning his shirt. He heard her spit into the sink and waited as her footsteps reentered the closet.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, Calliope," Spencer turned around and looked at her.

"I don't like the unicorns," she sighed, stepping into his arms and resting her head on his chest.

"I know."

The unicorns were anything he couldn't tell her about. She said that it helped – not much, but a little – to say he was off chasing the unicorns that got loose and were now frolicking around the country. Like Area Fifty-One and the alien stuff – the public couldn't know unicorns existed and it was part of their job at the FBI to keep the public from finding out. It helped because it was something she could laugh at. The idea of Spencer and J.J. and Emily… especially the idea of Hotch running around chasing unicorns through a forest or up a mountain or across a beach trying to catch them cracked her up. So it was easier to think about that than about what they were really doing.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Aunt Callie…" Jack yawned, smiling, and reached out his arms for her to pick him up off the chair he was curled up on. Calliope's shoes clicked across tile foyer of the BAU and picked him up into her arms.

"Hey there, Jack Attack. I missed you," Calliope smiled, exchanging Eskimo kisses with him.

"Daddy has to go away for work again so I have to come stay with you," Jack told her, nodding his head seriously.

"It's good you're coming to stay with me. Your Uncle Spencer has to go away too and I was going to be really lonely all by myself." She put on a sad face and pouted at Jack. "But because you're coming to stay with me, I'm all better!" Jack threw his arms around her neck and she kissed his cheek. "So what do you what for dinner tonight, big guy? We could make pizzas. You wanna do that? Yeah? Okay, it's a plan, man. Now, let's go back to bed."

"We can't go to bed here," Jack giggled, yawning again.

"We can't? Why not?"

"How does she get him to smile that way?" Hotch asked Reid, not taking his eyes of his son, his usually military straight shoulders drooping. "All she has to do is smile at him and he runs right up to her."

"Heh. You know the 'Reid Affect' your always explaining to parents and pet owners? Well, that's the Callie Affect. The exact opposite. Dogs follow her and kids in the park run right up to her and ask her to play. I think the colours explain why the kids love her – most of the time she looks like, and acts like for that matter, a giant kid. But dogs are colour blind so I haven't figured that out yet."

"Exact opposite of you, huh?" Hotch prompted, not really interested, but saying anything to be able to keep watching his son smile and laugh for a little longer.

"Yeah. We were at the Georgetown Waterfront and this boy was playing fetch with his dog. After a while the dog stopped chasing the Frisbee, came over to Calliope and kept trying to sit in her lap – it was a Golden Retriever, by the way. I don't know how it happened, but she, the boy and the dog started playing with the Frisbee. Calliope kept trying to get me to play, but every time I got near her the dog would growl at me. The kid kept looking at me funny, too."

"Did you tell him your potassium chlorate joke?" Hotch asked, dryly.

"No… Would that have worked?" Reid turned to look at him.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope unbuckled the straps of Jack's booster seat and carefully pulled him out of the car. His head lulled against her shoulder and she rubbed her hand up and down his back, closing the car door with her hip. Perses jumped through the dog door into the garage. Using her foot to nudge the dog away, Calliope carried Jack through the door and into the house, through the kitchen, the living room, down the hall and into his bedroom. She used one hand to pull down the dark blue comforter and put the sleeping little boy down in his bed.

"I love you, Jack-Jack," Calliope kissed his cheek, picked up the dog and tiptoed out of the bedroom. Sighing, she leaned against the wall next to his room and closed her eyes. "Jeeze Pers, you're way too heavy now. I'm weighing you later."

Putting the dog down, she rubbed her arms and walked down the hall. She closed the door after the dog wondered in after her. Calliope sat down in the white rocking chair and hugged the pastel pink and white polka dot pillow. She looked around the half-finished room and closed her eyes, dropping her face to the pillow and trying not to cry.

Perses whined and put his face in her lap, his brown eyebrows moved as he blinked and nudged her hand with his wet nose. Scratching his muzzle, Calliope wiped her eyes and smiled at him.

"I'm sorry, baby," she slid out of the chair onto the floor and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his silky black fur. "You got so big, Perses. You're not even a year old and I can barely lift you anymore. Eme's not going to recognize you when we go visit her."

Calliope's voice broke and she squeezed him tighter. Perses dropped his head to her shoulder and one of his paws on her thigh. Smiling weakly, she reached up and scratched behind his floppy ear. "Daddy's coming home, Pers. You know that, silly." She kissed his snout affectionately. "You don't have to be sad. He's going to be fine. He has to come home. He has to help me finish Emeline's room. If he leaves me alone to finish it, it'll never get done because I'll keep changing my mind about things. If he doesn't come back, I'll start painting the walls again and if I change the paint in this room again the people at Home Depot are going to put up a big banner that says 'Do not sell this woman paint' with a picture of me.

"He has to come back. He promised he'd always come back, Pers." Calliope looked around the room again. She'd completely embraced the princess theme in decorating Emeline's room and she loved it. She's painted the walls a pale purple first before painting them blue then green then back to purple, then pink and then blue once more before going back to the original pastel purple she'd picked in the first place. The purple covered the walls now and the ceiling had been painted a softer shade of the same colour. A white iron bed frame sat in the corner with a stripped mattress leaning against the wall next to it. A bag of pink and white linens sat at the base of the mattress waiting to be unwrapped and put on the bed.

Perses nudged her cheek with his nose and licked her, his big, wet tongue leaving a trail of slobber from her chin to her hairline. She laughed softly and shook his head with her hands. "You're such a goof, you silly. Come on. Let's go back to bed. A lot's happening tomorrow so if you keep me up all night while you worry about your daddy, we're both gonna be tired. C'mon baby."

Despite her joking, Calliope was the one who laid in bed worrying long after the dog fell back asleep. Eventually, around three thirty in the morning, she gave up sleep entirely and pushed herself up in bed, flipped the television on and reached into the bottom drawer of her nightstand to grab the blanket she was crocheting for Emeline. It was almost finished. All the granny squares were done; now she needed to sew the squares together and then add the scallop trim around the edge.

Using her teeth to snap the white thread, Calliope wondered about what had called her Spencer away. She knew it wasn't unicorns. That was just a joke. More than a joke, really. More like wishful thinking. She'd never felt much fear before. Not before meeting Spencer. She'd always been too brave for her own good. That's what Mammy always told her while Grandpa laughed and cleaned up whatever scraps her latest adventure left her with.

The first time she'd ever felt real fear was the day Eli shipped off the first time. She remembered that day better than any other day in the world. Better than any of her graduations, Jill's wedding, better even than any day she'd ever spent with Spencer. She was ten years old at the time. Tall for her age, gangly and awkward with carrot red hair sprouting uncontrollably from her head and a terrible sunburn that glowed like a ripe tomato and hurt like millions of needles all over her face, arms and shoulders.

She'd been mad at him. She hadn't wanted him to go. She was furious that he was leaving and going someplace she couldn't see him or talk to him. She hadn't understood why he wanted to leave, why he needed to leave. She didn't understand why President Clinton had to take _her_ cousin and ship him off somewhere. She was so, so mad.

"_Cal-Pal, aren't you going to give me a hug?" Eli squatted down, his starched MARPAT pants crinkled as he got down to her level._

"_No," Calliope huffed and crossed her arms; too angry to even wince at the pain the action caused her sun burnt arms._

"_I'd really like a hug, TooTall."_

"_You're gonna miss my birthday."_

"_I know. Do you remember where I'm going?"_

"_Somalia," she muttered bitterly, scuffing her runner on the tightly knit blue airport carpet and not looking up. The carpet made a stupid sound when the rubber from the sole of her shoe slid across it and it made her angry. It was like that 'ffpt' sound that your tongue made when you stuck it out and blew a raspberry. Even the carpet was saying 'nah nah nah-nah nah.' _

"_And I gave you the address to send my letters to. You still have it?" _

"_2__nd__Lt Eli Gregg. H C 33__rd__ ESB. FOB Necra. APO. AE. SOM." Calliope rattled off the address she had memorized, but still refused to look up._

"_You'll write me, won't you?" Calliope nodded. Her red nose flared a little as her eyes watered. Wiping her nose with the back of her hand, she finally looked up. Eli's eyes were sad and watery like hers and he gave her a sad smile. "I'm gonna miss you, Cal-Pal."_

"_I'mamissyoutoo," she mumbled, still rubbing her nose._

"_C'mere, kiddo," Eli reached out and tugged on the bottom of her shirt. Wrapping her up in his arms, Eli stood up and squeezed her, her feet dangling in the air. He put her back on the ground ruffled her hair. "I love you, Callie."_

"_I don't want you to go."_

"_I know, Callie. But I'm gonna come home, I promise. No matter what, I'll always come home."_

She'd heard those words so many times, from Eli, from Isaac and now from Spencer. She'd said those words to Jack about Aaron. So far, they always managed to come home. So far, their luck, their skill had held out. There were injuries, but they'd always come home. How much longer would it hold though? How much longer until one of them didn't come home?

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"All I'm saying, is that's what I'd do," Mick Rawson said tapping the Ronald Reagan Building and International Trade Center label on the huge map of D.C.

"But all the evidence is pointing towards an emotional target, not an economical one," Prentiss argued, pointing at the National Mall by the Washington Monument.

"Okay, okay, okay," Sam Cooper said, squashing the argument. "We have too many possible targets. We havta narrow it down somehow."

Hotch sighed and stared down at the map. "How the hell are we going figure this out?"

"It's the Israeli Embassy," Reid said from across the room where he stood studying the evidence board.

"What?"

"President Obama is going to be at the Israeli Embassy today. He's meeting with President Peres and Prime Minister Netanyahu. Everything on John Doe and everything in his backpack points to Hamas and Al Qaeda."

"The three most powerful leaders working against them all together in one spot," Morgan walked over to stand next to Reid. "It makes sense."

"But how?" Gina LaSalle crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side as she studied the evidence board.

"Bangladesh, Ethiopia, Jordan, Ghana, and Israel are all right on top of each other," García pulled up a satellite image of International Drive on a plasma screen. "Pakistan's across Van Ness right there."

"There's sniper nest opportunities everywhere," Rawson walked over to the plasma, taking the spot J.J. usually occupied and started pointing out the different places. "Here, here… Several right there. Especially in the building right across from the Embassy."

"What about bombings?" Jonathan 'Prophet' Simms asked from where he stood by Rossi. "They could have planted one or more bombs inconspicuously in the previous weeks. Places they wouldn't have been disturbed."

"Poisoning," Morgan suggested. "Food and drinks."

"They're not eating," Hotch shook his head.

"They'll still be drinking."

"True. We'll get bottled water only. We'll send an agent to a random mart and have him pick up a few packs of bottled water. Anderson. Call Anderson in and send him with a Secret Service agent and a _Shabak_ guard."

"Biological?" Rossi proposed. "That would hit the three targets as well as diplomats, security officers and citizens. One attack with the most devastating result. Chaos, panic…"

"Reid? What's going on in there?" Morgan nudged him slightly as Reid leaned over the map of D.C. and the surrounding areas, moving the map slightly across the table.

"Calliope and Jack are going to be at Dulles this afternoon," he pointed to the airport about twenty-five miles away from the Embassy. "Jill arrives today."

"What?" Hotch turned, his eyes narrowed in concern and fear.

"Call her," Prentiss bit her bottom lip.

"I can't. It's against regulations. We can't use this information to help our families. Besides, she wouldn't pick up. Phone meeting for another hour." Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw J.J. fiddling with her cell phone and knew he'd be doing the same thing until he had Calliope in his arms again.

"Cooper, call ATF and get every single bomb squad member we have to go over every inch for a two mile radius around the embassy. Every single place no matter how unlikely it might be," Hotch started passing out orders, "J.J., call the Secret Service and the _Shabak_. Get them here. Once they're here and we debrief them, you and Rawson take some of them and cover every sniper nest. I don't want any unauthorized access to any place that could possibly offer an advantage for a sniper.

"García, start ciphering through chatter. Don't let anything go. Even if it seems unlikely, check it out. Prentiss, Prophet, help García. It's going to be a lot to go through. Reid, Morgan, Dave… We're going to work the bio-warfare angle. It's four forty. We have nine hours until President Obama leaves to go to the embassy. We have to work with the Secret Service and the _Shabak_. Make sure to keep them in the loop or we'll have communication breakdown and that's how we'll loose the Presidents and the Prime Minister."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"_Sí, capisco. Un attimo, per favore. Ho trentasei pittura finito. Fra Settembre, essi sar__à__ visualizzata a_ This Century Art Gallery _in_ Williamsburg, Virginia," Calliope tapped the 'enter' button on her keyboard with her right hand and held the phone to her ear with her left. "_La_ Smithsonian _sar__à essi fra Febbraio.__ Sono e-mail ti immagini ora._"

"_Molto bella, Signorina Sellers. Vorrei la raccolta la prossima estate._"

The conversation continued for another hour or so and, by the time Calliope hung up, she'd finished six cups of coffee and the sun was high in the sky. Scrubbing her face, she put the phone back on its' charging cradle next to the iMac and clicked up iCal and started changing her calendar to add the new dates in the green event bubbles that indicated the Scroll&Stylus calendar.

She pulled back and studied the next few months of her life. Green was Scroll&Stylus, blue was The Hobbit Hole, purple was Dahlia, orange was personal, red was Jack, and pink was the prep for Keely and Trisha's wedding. Jeeze… she needed a vacation. After the wedding, she was going away and sleeping for a month. Except she couldn't. Because the entire calendar was a rainbow of colours for the next year. There was no time for sleep until the collection was finished and the wedding was over. Whichever came last. So probably until about a week before the collection was unveiled in September.

She needed more coffee. Just thinking about it was exhausting. Calliope rolled herself away from the desk and stood up, coffee mug in hand. Refilling her mug with three shots of espresso, steamed milk and way too much sugar, she wandered through the house to her studio and kept the door open incase Jack woke up. She put the mug down next to her paint-stained palettes, grabbed a pair of purple leather driving gloves and walked over to the wall of shelves. After pulling the ladder over, she climbed up to the third tier and pulled out a nearly-finished piece.

With the piece on her easel, she pealed off the gloves and picked a splinter out of the leather. Calliope picked up the box of acrylics she'd been using for this piece and squeezed a tiny amount of three different browns onto her palette. Acrylics were used in small amounts. Acrylics dried so fast that she kept a spray bottle on the table to mist the palette with water so the paint would stay pliable. Squeeze too much and half of it dried before she used it.

"Well hello there. How are you this morning?" She asked the painting as she mixed two shades of brown. Trailing her brush carefully over the driftwood she'd brought back from Haiti. She'd spent weeks turning the half-ton of debris and driftwood into canvases with rusty, recycled carriage bolts, elevator bolts and hex bolts for this collection of paintings. The end result looked something like broken chunks of destroyed fences that she absolutely loved. "You ready to be finished, baby? Because I am so ready to finish you. And I promise – you'll look gorgeous. You'll absolutely love yourself. Ya know… if you had eyes and all."

Each movement of the paintbrush left her soul a little lighter than it had been before and, by the time she reached for her size four mongoose flat and dipped just the tip in the mix of concrete, grey and white paints, she was feeling more relaxed than she had in a week. Carefully dusting the stiff hairs over the brown feet to add an uneven coat of concrete powder, she used her thumb to smudge some spots strategically. It seemed odd that painting the horror she'd lived in Haiti would bring her such peace, but that's how painting worked.

It was how she let things go.

It was how she freed her soul.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid fisted his hand around the creased, faded picture in his pocket and listened to the Secret Service agent argue with the _Shabak_ guard about the best way to protect the Presidents. There had been discussion about canceling the meeting altogether, but both parties refused outright. Neither president would cancel, so it was up to them to find a way to keep them safe.

The _Shabak_ guard was muttering to himself in Hebrew when Spencer excused himself to go to the bathroom. Once inside, he locked the door behind him and paced back and forth. On one hand, he knew he couldn't use the information he had as a government agent to help his own family when the general public didn't have a clue to what was going on around them. But, on the other, he couldn't let her come into Washington knowing that the Hamas and Al Qaeda were planning a biological attach thirty miles from where she'd be.

How did J.J. and Hotch do this? How did they _not_ call to warn them?

Reid fished his phone from his pocket and flipped it open. Moving his thumbs quickly, he tapped out a message and hit send before he could change his mind. Looking down, he checked his watch. Noon. Two hours until the President arrived at the Israeli Embassy.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Table for two?"

"None smoking, please."

"Followed me please. Wow, you are such a cute little boy. What's your name?"

"My name's Jack Hotchner. What's your name?" Jack told her, his usual shy expression on his face as he leaned closer into Calliope's arms, but he held out his hand the way he'd seen his daddy do when he met people.

"Linda Matthews. It's nice to meet you, Jack Hotchner," Linda smiled and shook his hand before turning to the redhead holding him. "Your son is so sweet, young lady. He has your eyes."

"No, he doesn't," Calliope smiled at Jack and tickled his stomach making him scrunch his face and laugh as he smiled his adorable smile and tried to squirm away from her hand without falling. "Whose eyes do you have, Jack? Whose eyes?"

"My mommy's!"

"Yeah! You have your mommy's eyes! And where's your mommy?" Calliope kissed his check and hugged him tight.

"Mommy's in heaven."

"And who am I?"

"You're my Aunt Callie!" Jack threw his arms around her neck and hugged her, squashing his nose against her face.

"That's right, Jack Attack. Ah, I love you, you cutie. You make my world a happy place, Jack Hotchner."

"What about Uncle Spensor?" Jack looked up at her seriously.

"Uncle Spencer makes my world happy too," she laughed, tweaking his nose as she continued, "but you, you're my favoritest nephew ever."

"I'm your only-est nefew, Aunt Callie."

"Not true. What about Henry?"

"Oh yeah…" Jack looked down thoughtfully before looking back up and stating, "He doesn't count. He's just a baby."

Linda laughed and put their silverware down on the table.

"Have you been to Perkins before?" Linda asked as she put a booster seat on a chair for Jack. Jack nodded and reached for the crayons she handed him.

"I want ham and cheese," Jack said before she had a chance to ask what he wanted and started colouring in his menu.

"Ham and cheese, what?" Calliope raised an eyebrow at him.

"Please. Ham and cheese, please. And chocolate pie!"

"A glass of milk for him as well, please. I'd like a Caesar salad with grilled chicken. And a slice of apple pie. But bring the pie after we're finished. Otherwise neither one of us will finish our lunch. Especially me. Oh and a glass of peach tea, please," Calliope handed Linda the menu and smiled. Looking down, she checked her watch. Noon. Two hours until Jill's flight got in.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Tucking his red polo shirt into his khakis, the man straightened his belt and slipped into the black leather loafers. He walked across his apartment and grabbed his workbag, flipping the flap open and checking inside to make sure he had everything he needed. With the tip of his finger, he moved a few vials and smiled.

He was ready.

Looking down, he checked his watch. Noon. Two hours until the all their work would reap its reward.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Perses yawned and stretched lazily. Wandering away from his blanket, he trotted into the laundry room and sniffed out one of Daddy's socks. With his prize clenched in his mouth, he jumped up on Daddy's favourite chair and settled in to gnaw the day away.

_The Kid from Redbank_ started played from the kitchen and Perses looked up. Why was that playing? Mommy left with The Boy five birds, two squirrels and three potty adventures ago. The musical machine stopped when Mommy left. And Perses would have known if Mommy came home. The musical machine stopped played, let out a loud beep and then stilled.

Yawning again, Perses shook himself and went back to destroying the purple and orange sock he'd pulled from the laundry room. On the counter in the kitchen, the iPhone glowed with a new text message for a while longer before turning black.

**

* * *

A/N:**

**OH MY GAWD, life's been crazy. The house goes on the market in a month and it seems like no matter how much we do, we still have so much left. We're getting new carpet today so the house is like a warzone. And very loud. And it looks like it's going to rain in a bit.**

**I'm sorry I haven't updated in forever and a day, but life has been absolutely bonkers lately. I really hope you'll forgive me. Things should get better once I go back to school and have a routine again. But, then, I'll also have studying to do. BUT NEVER FEAR! _Mystery Muse _shall never be abandoned! I love it (and yall) way too much to do that! Andyways, I hope you liked the chapter and think it was worth the wait.**

**Have yall seen Toy Story 3? I've seen it 3 times. It's SO FREAKING AH-MAZING! So worth the wait. I loved it like ohmygawd. The first time was with my little brother and two of my bonus brothers at the midnight premeir, the second was with Kaffiene when she came home for a week and the third was with several of my friend on my 21st birthday. Haha We're nerds. I love it. Sorry - I've had a Monster so I'm crazy, crazy hyper (just the way I like it). Oh and I just watched Dear Frankie last night. I wish I'd watched it sooner. It's so great. Definitely in the top 100 films for me, which is quite an honour because I'm a movie snob.**

**Okay. I'm signing off now. I hope you liked it and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	40. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_If people bring so much courage to this world, the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and, afterward, many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break, it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these, you can be sure it will kill you too, but there will be no special hurry." – Ernest Hemingway_

o o o o

11 May, 2010

Morgan poured coffee into the blue FBI mug with his name stamped across it on a white DYMO® label. The new coffee machine beeped happily when he put the pot back in its' place. The old machine finally died last week and García, rather than be patient and wait several weeks for the paper-pushers to replace it, had gone around the office to the thirty-odd people who used the machine and demanded five dollars from everyone. Not asked, demanded. Morgan vividly remembered the morning she barged into his office while he was still half asleep from lack of coffee and he nearly fell out of his chair as he leaned to grab a file from the filing cabinet.

_ "I need five dollars!" The door to his office exploded open and ricocheted off the wall as it smacked into it and García barreled into the room._

_ "For what?" He asked, holding onto the desk to keep from falling face-first into the open drawer on the left side of his desk._

_ "Coffee."_

_ "Okay, I know Starbucks is expensive, but nothing's actually five dollars. Is it?"_

_ "No, for a new coffee machine."_

_ "You just got a new machine two months ago."_

_ "Not for me! For the office."_

_ "Isn't the dude in the room by the thing down the hall from J.J. going to get a new one?"_

_ "Yeah, the cheapest possible percolator after, like, seven months of waiting for funds to be approved. C'mon. Just gimme five dollars."_

_ "Baby Girl, I don't –"_

_ "Derek! I am one of the few people who could erase every single minuet shred of evidence that you ever existed besides your actual person, hard copies and people's memories. I can make you virtually disappear. Shut down your bank account, delete your birth certificate. Shred the deeds to all your properties. Degrees? Gone. And never be caught. So, I'll ask again. Five dollars, please."_

_ "You didn't _ask_ the first time," Derek shook his head, pulling his wallet out and handing her the last bill in his billfold. Pacified, García kissed his cheek and left his office to go shanghai her next victim. "Guess I'm using the credit card for lunch today."_

Morgan downed the scalding coffee in a few gulps and rinsed out his mug. Leaving the cup next to the sink instead of taking it back to his office or the roundtable room, he snatched the Kevlar FBI vest out of the air when Rossi tossed it to him. He raised his eyebrows in question and Hotch nodded.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Oh, crap. Jack, I think I forgot my phone at home," Calliope sighed digging around in her purse to try and find the elusive machine.

"Why'd you do that?" Jack looked up from the picture of Marvin and Dory he was almost finished colouring. Instead of orange, black and white, Marvin had been coloured a rainbow of royal purple, aqua green and goldenrod while Dory was happily magenta and silver. Jack had drawn a space helmet over Dory's face and a cowboy hat on Marvin; every since they saw the trailer for Toy Story Three, everything related back to Buzz and Woody. No matter how obscure or seemingly irrelevant, every came back to Toy Story.

"Well, I didn't do it on purpose, Jack Attack," Calliope laughed, still digging through her purse in case she was wrong, hoping she was wrong. Without her phone, she felt so… naked. Stopping mid-rummage, she paused and stared at the cheap, industrial carpeting Jack sat on. When had she become so dependent on a piece of metal and a LED screen with little computer chips in between? Was forgetting her phone really that big a deal?

"Aunt Callie, can I have a drink?" Jack asked as he put the brown crayon back in the small Tupperware box with the rest of his crayons.

"Of course. Here." Handing him a five-dollar bill she pointed towards the Starbucks counter thirty yards away from where they sat. Jack took the bill and, clutching the money like it contained more value than anything in the world, walked proudly over to the counter. He waited his turn in line, but when he got to the front, a man in a suit on his Bluetooth cut in front of him. Calliope pursed her lips, but that was okay. He was in a rush and rude. But when a woman pushed past Jack followed by a teenager on an iPod, Calliope grabbed her bag, walked over to the counter and put herself between the businessman about to step up. "Excuse me. He's next in line."

The man rolled his eyes, but Jack stood on his tiptoes and asked for a venti apple juice. She'd taken him to Starbucks way too many times. Jack traded the money for the drink, carefully counting his change, which he handed to Calliope. After thanking the barista, he held the large drink with two hands and smiled up at his aunt.

"When's the plane getting here?"

"An hour and a half or so."

"Harry Potter? Please?" Jack tugged on her purple purse, knowing the book they were in the middle of was hidden inside. Without waiting for an answer, he leaned over to look, nearly spilling his apple juice into her hundred and twenty thousand-dollar Hermès Matte Crocodile Birkin Bag.

"Woahhh," Calliope grabbed the drink out his hand just seconds before her favourite purse became a pool. "Hold on there, Jack-Jack. Okay. Grab the book. Can you find my glasses?"

Jack first pulled out a hardcover copy of _Harry Potter and the Philospher's Stone_ and then a bright green ladybug glasses case. The tacky contents of her purse clashed laughably with the expensive leather bag encasing them. Awkwardly, the two exchanged what they were holding until the book sat in Calliope's lap, Jack had his apple juice and Calliope had slipped the pink reading glasses on. Dropping her purse on the chair next to them, Calliope picked up the book and Jack, as if on cue, climbed into her lap and settled down.

"What chapter are we on?" Calliope asked with her arms around Jack so she could hold the book open and flip through the pages.

"Sixteen," Jack responded promptly. "Dumbydore gaved Harry the invisible cloak back."

"Dumbledore," she corrected gently, "Okay. Here we are. 'Through the Trapdoor.' You ready?"

"Ready," Jack leaned back against her chest and held his apple juice with two hands, sucking on the green straw contentedly.

"In years to come, Harry would never quite remember how he had managed to get through his exams when he half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

García scrubbed her eyes and blinked a few times. Her eyes burned from staring at her computer screens so intently for so long. Staring at computer screens wasn't anything new for her, but today her eyes couldn't take much more. She, Prentiss and that Prophet guy, who was pretty cool for an ex-con, had gone through so much nothing that she felt close to exploding.

From eight excruciatingly long hours of sifting through every possible shred of virtual information going back six months, they pulled three encrypted emails between fake e-mail addresses: one Yahoo! account and one Gmail. García back traced the e-mails through servers from China west to Russia then south to Australia, west again to Peru, up north to Canada, then to Ireland where they disappeared. She picked the e-mails back up in North Korea and followed them through Egypt, South Africa, Iraq, back to China, until she finally found the origin at Mocha Ground, a cyber café on Fourteenth Street in DC that she and Calliope liked to meet Will at for lunch when the team was away on a case. She and Calliope loved the whole grain pecan and banana pancakes. Those pancakes were also Jack's favourite, though Henry and Will preferred the blueberry.

García leaned back and closed her eyes for a second, hugging the picture of her and Reid with Henry. Henry just had a birthday. He'd turned two less than a week ago, right before they were sent to Alaska. She'd added this newest edition to the collection of photographs on her desk nearly the second J.J. uploaded it to PhotoBug.

This psycho had used her favourite brunch spot to plan an assassination on the President. And, for that, he was going down. In flames, preferably.

_"What are we looking at, Princess?" Morgan leaned over the back of her chair_

_ "Ethan Markus. Works at Hammond Heating and Air. Has for the last three years. Lives by himself in an apartment in Georgetown. He has a very sick cat. Grew up in New Hampshire with his mother. However! When I went to dig further, I found that Ethan Markus was never born. Birth certificate was fake. Maryland doesn't require a fingerprint for a driver's license," García clicked through apparently falsified documents before stopping on one in Arabic. "Met Ethan Markus, or, as he is probably better known, Ahmed Yassin."_

_ "García, Sheikh Ahmed Yassin was assassinated by Israel six years ago. March twenty-second, two thousand four at five-twenty a.m. An Israeli armed helicopter fired Hellfire missiles while he was wheeled out of a prayer session. Eleven dead and twelve injured," Reid shook his head and García resisted the urge to smack him upside the head._

_ "Hi, yeah, shut up, Reid. Born nineteen eighty-seven, he was _named_ after Sheikh Ahmed Yassin who had just founded the Hamas. Joined Hamas when he was, like, a kid. There's no exact date."_

_ J.J. walked into the room and handed Reid, Morgan, Hotch and Rossi all a piece of paper. "Helen just finished translating the e-mails."_

_ "Death to America," Rossi read, "Promising way to start."_

The SWAT tactical assault on Yassin's apartment turned up nothing, but García and Lynch's combined breakdown of his laptop had turned up more than she was comfortable knowing. She loved and hated her job at the same time. She loved knowing that what she did for a living made the world a better place, scrapped some of the scum off the sidewalk so, hopefully, kids like Jack and Henry wouldn't live with such filth when they were her age.

But then the nightmares came. Solving a case and putting away the proverbial bad guy staved them away for a little while, but they always came back. They never stayed away for long.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Attention, passengers, if I may have your attention, please. We will be arriving at Dulles Airport in Sterling, Virginia in about one hour. In a little while, the captain will light the 'fasten seatbelts' sign while we prepare for decent. Also, I'd like to remind everyone that smoking on an airplane is illegal."

A tan brunette woman shifted slightly in her seat, running a hand back and forth over her slightly rounded stomach in something of a habit as the flight attendant repeated her message in French. Cheap drugstore headphones pressed against her midsection and she kept having to readjust them because they weren't stretched enough to stay in place for very long. The plane ride from Charles de Gaulle in Paris to Dulles was exhausting and she couldn't wait to get off the plane and sleep.

She glanced around the airplane, studying the people around her and felt acutely out of place sitting in first class. Everyone around her wore expensive looking clothing and here she sat in old, faded khaki cargo pants that were at least five years old and a pale green blouse that had definitely seen better days.

Her rough palm stroked her stomach in small circles and she closed her eyes, her left hand reaching up to clasp the gold Star of David dangling around her neck. She was tired, so, so tired. Her entire body was exhausted; every limb felt heavy, but more than that, she was mentally and emotionally worn out.

Opening her eyes and reaching into her purse, she pulled out a wad of yellow envelopes held together with a rubber band close to snapping. She unwound the rubber band and opened one of the envelopes to pull the papers out. Loopy, green handwriting crept across the yellow paper and a quiet smile spread across her face.

_"Dear Jill – I miss you! I don't have much time, but I wanted to get a letter in the mail even if it's short. I'll write a longer one tomorrow. Promise. Here's the picture you wanted. His name's Spencer Reid. Technically, it's Doctor Spencer Reid. He's cute, huh? We started dating a little over a month ago. I know what you're going to say – he's too skinny. And then you'd go off about how I'm too skinny. So we'll just skip all that this time. Sound good? Good. Anyways. Just a sec. I have to go get your last letter. I can't remember all your questions. Okay. I'm back. Though, you wouldn't really know because this is a letter. Hmmm… Moving on. No, he's not a medical doctor. Ph.D.s not M.D. All science stuff. Right up your ally. He works for the FBI – he's a behavioural analyst. He chases serial criminals. No, I don't know much about his job. I don't really want to know. Too morbid. Yes, he is actually a genius. It's really cute. Sometimes he just keeps talking and then, a while later, he realizes it and gets all awkward and quiet. He hasn't kissed me yet, even though I've given at least a dozen clues. Maybe I'm doing it wrong. Right now, I'm really wishing I'd dated before this. I can practically hear you singing/screaming 'I told you so!" all the way from Uganda. Even though it'll be at least a week before you get this letter. I've gotta go. The car's here to pick me up. Susan G. Komen Charity Auction. I donated artwork. Yes, my dress is poofy and pink. I'll send you pictures later. Love you more than anything! –Callie_

Jill lifted the picture of a tall, gangly brunette with his arm around the shoulders of her redheaded sister. It was obviously a candid shot; neither one seemed to realize it was being taken as they looked at something out of the picture. Flipping it over, she read the note on the back.

_Brianne took this last Saturday. Was working at The Hobbit Hole doing inventory. Spencer came and took me to lunch. No, I don't know what I'm staring at, but apparently it was fascinating. It was probably a butterfly._

Yawning, she adjusted the headphones yet again and studying the mans' face. She would be living with him for a while and she really didn't know much about him. He seemed nice enough; he made Callie happy and she supposed that was all she really needed to know. Right?

Hopefully, neither one of them would mind if she slept for the next week or so.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid cringed inwardly when he had to hit the 'ignore' button on his cell phone and push the phone back into his pocket. Hotch raised an eyebrow in silent questioning. Hotch missed very little.

"That's the first time I've ever had to ignore my daughter's phone call," he whispered.

"It doesn't get easier," Hotch nodded knowingly.

"So, you'll call her tonight when you get home," Rossi shrugged and handed each of them a stack of papers with Yassin's picture printed on it to distribute.

By the time every picture had been distributed, the embassy had been swept for everything from mousetraps to atom bombs, and every person present was accounted for, the clock in the embassy's foyer ticked ominously closer to two o'clock.

Fifteen minutes left.

"I don't like this, Hotch," Prentiss said as she and Cooper stopped next to them. "There's still so much we don't know."

Rawson's voice echoed through the tiny earwigs wedged in everyone's ears, "All my snipers are in position. I need an update, Coop."

"I-one and I-two are coming downstairs now," Cooper glanced towards the now-occupied staircase.

"The car with Renegade is a few blocks away," Rawson returned.

"Hotch," Morgan muttered and elbowed Hotch in the side, pointing up to a far corner on the second story where a man in a red polo shirt and a tool belt looked around before he slipped through a door marked MAINTENANCE. "I did _not_ let the guy in."

"J.J.," Hotch motioned towards the stairs and the three moved quickly and silently past the Israeli President and Prime Minister, past the _Shabak_ guards and up to the second story. Not even J.J.'s heals clicked against the marble, as if even they knew the need to be silent.

"Gina, have the Secret Service take Renegade around the block once," Rossi said and Gina nodded, quickly walking away towards Anderson.

"Well hey there, Ahmed. We've been lookin' for you," Morgan said as the three agents slipped through the maintenance door just as easily has he had before them. All three inched towards him with their guns aimed steadily at the man pulling away a portion of the air duct cutting vertically through the back of room. Yassin startled, but didn't move away from the duct. "C'mon, now, Ahmed. Just back away and let's talk about this."

"We're American FBI agents, Yassin," Hotch continued as the Arab glanced over his shoulder. "Put your hands in the air. This isn't going to end well and you know that. Hands in the air."

Yassin let go of the of the metal siding and, slowly, he raised his hands and turned around. A sly smile covered his face and Morgan groaned inwardly when he saw the corked chemistry test tube in his right hand. "You seem to know my name, but I do not know yours."

"I'm Agent Hotchner, Agents Morgan and Jareau. Just give us the vile, Yassin, and we can end this as peacefully as possible," Hotch tried to talk the man down, but his malicious grin merely grew.

"No, I am afraid it is you who are wrong, Agent Hotchner. This will end well. Very well. Just not for you or for your people," Yassin had barely moved to uncork the bottle when three consecutive shots rang out to Hotch's left. Yassin's head snapped back and Morgan threw himself forward as Yassin fell backwards to grab the glass vile out of the air before it hit the hard tile floor and shattered.

Hotch and J.J. stepped forward with their guns aimed at Yassin. His body slammed the floor before the vile was even halfway through its' arch through the air. Morgan's hit the floor with his arm outstretched as far as physically possible, praying it was far enough. The three slugs at Yassin struck their target with deadly precision and blood trailed from the first bullet hole in the dead center of his wide forehead and from the second straight through the bridge of his nose between dead black eyes. Brain matter poured liberally from the gaping break in the top of his skull from where J.J's third bullet tore through the underside of his chin all the way through his brain and out of top of his head.

Morgans' fingertips barely caught the vile; curving his fingers, he tilted the tubes' path so it dropped safely into his palm. He let his head fall back against the floor with a sigh of relieve, a sound quickly echoed by both J.J. and Hotch.

"Well, your football skills finally came in handy," Hotch smiled wryly, looking down at Morgan who stared at the vile in his hand like he couldn't believe he actually caught it.

"Naw," Morgan laughed, his head still resting on the cool floor before he pushed himself up, carefully cradling the fragile piece of glass, as Hotch squatted down to look at the seven other identical tubes still tucked in Yassin's bag. "That was thanks to a punk goalkeeper from Chicago. J.J., who the hell taught you to shot?"

"You did, Derek."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Is she coming out yet?" Jack sighed and tugged impatiently on the purple denim of her skinny jeans. He was starting to fidget. Even the most well behaved children could only stand so much time waiting. Calliope smiled and smoothed his hair.

"Jill will be out soon, Jack Attack. And then we'll go home. We could go for a bike ride. Does that sound fun?"

"Lee's too?" Jack bargained with the name of the ice cream shop a couple blocks away from The Hobble Hole.

"You had pie today, Jack. Remember?" She shook her head 'no' to the request for ice cream. Jack started to whine, but Calliope looked down at him with her eyebrows raised and, after a few seconds consideration, he stopped and leaned against her leg, fisting his hand in the bottom of her yellow blouse. "You want me to pick you up?"

"No," he pouted.

"Okay," Calliope smiled and stroked his hair, trying to keep a hand on him at all times in the crowded airport to make sure no one grabbed him away or he didn't wander off after something that caught his attention. Maybe she'd been part of this BAU family for too long, but she worried when they were in crowds, sometimes even when they weren't in crowds. She'd seen the Amber Alerts on the billboards over highways. Seen J.J. on the news requesting that anyone with information about a black SUV speeding away from the elementary school to call the hotline number on the bottom of the screen. So maybe she was a little overprotective, but she'd rather be overprotective and have Jack save than lax and have him disappear.

"How much longer?"

"I don't know, Baby. Not too much longer."

Calliope was right. Within five minutes, she saw a familiar shade of brown hair come through the door from customs. Jill looked so much older than the last time Calliope saw her; she'd aged far more than the two and a half years since her last trip home. Calliope picked Jack up and pointed, "See Jack? Right there. That's my sister Jill."

The brunette spotted Calliope's frenzied waving and shook her head with a grin. She weaved through the crowd until she stood in front of Calliope. Her bag dropped to the floor and Calliope put Jack down and the two launched at each other, both talking a mile a minute at the exact same time.

"I've never been happier to see your hair!" Jill laughed, still not letting go of the smaller woman. "I could have found you a mile away."

"Oh my God, I missed you so much," Calliope kissed her cheek and squeezed. "But! I think we have some introductions."

"We do," Jill agreed, pulling away and squatting down to look at the suddenly shy little boy. "Hi, I'm Jill."

"Jack, this is my big sister Jill. Jill, this is my very handsome little nephew Jack," she made the introductions and Jack held out his hand, which Jill shook very seriously. As soon as Jill let go of his hand, Jack grabbed onto Calliope pants and she smiled, bending down to pick him up. Jill stood up as well and Calliope looked at her expectantly.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"To wh –" Jill started laughing when she realized what Calliope meant.

"Hey there, Fetus. You'll have to excuse your mommy. She has no manners. I'm your Aunt Callie. I'm the one that's gonna get you hyped up on sugar and then hand you back over to your parents."

"You do realize there's no way the baby can hear you, right?"

"Shut up, Jill."

"Is she always this weird, Jack?" Jill asked even though she knew the answer. Jack nodded yes and leaned closer to Calliope like she was 'base' where he was safe. "I need coffee, Callie."

"Thank God, I need some too."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Three successive gunshots rang out and every head jerked up to the second story Hotch, Morgan and J.J. had just disappeared up to. Reid and Rossi exchanged a look and Reid nodded. He and Cooper hurried after the Israeli President and Prime Minister as _Shebak_ guards ushered them towards the door to a safety room.

"What the hell is going on in there?" Rawson's voice yelled through their earwigs. LaSalle, who had been covering the front, ran in with her gun drawn.

"Rossi," Prentiss murmured as quietly as she could, trying to draw no attention to the fact that she spoke. "That guy. _Shebak _guard left of the bench. He's agitated."

"I see," Rossi barely moved his lips as they inched closer. What seemed like hours after the shots had been fired, Hotch came out, calling over the balcony that everything was under control. The _Shebak_ guard pulled out his gun, fury emanating from every pore.

"Put it down!" and similar commands shouted from every corner of the foyer and echoed off the marble floors and walls. Every gun in the embassy pointed at the guard, but he seemed not to even notice. Rossi saw the gun directed at the President that Reid's back was blocking as the protective hoard moved closer to the door.

The only shot at the President from that man's position was through Reid.

Gunfire exploded from every corner of the room.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Home sweet home," Calliope said as they drove out of the trees and into the clearing where the sprawling one-story bungalow stood. Esther's head raised from the grass she munched on to watch the Cayenne pull into the garage.

'It looks prettier than I remember," Jill unbuckled her seatbelt as Calliope put the car in park. "And I see you brought the horses up. I knew it was only a matter of time."

"Yeah, I brought up Esther and Adella. I might bring up Charlotte later, but not until she gives birth and the foal's good. It's her last pregnancy. This one was hard on the poor girl."

"She's produced a lot of good racers," Jill nodded.

"All champions. I'm worried but this one though."

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Hey Pers!" Calliope greeted the barking dog as she unbuckled Jack's booster seat. The second Jack was on the floor, he hugged Perses' neck and the two ran inside. Calliope heard the fridge open and close as she pulled Jill's bag out of the back of the car. "C'mon. I bet you want a nap, huh?"

"Desperately."

"The guestroom's all ready for you. What'd you get, Jack?"

"Sunny D," Jack called as he ran into his room with the dog.

"You're good at this," Jill grinned.

"At what?" Calliope asked as they walked towards the guestroom.

"Being a mom."

"Thanks," she smiled and put the bag down on the bed. "You'll be a great mom, Jilly."

"I hope so," she bit her lip and touched her stomach.

"I know so. Have a nap," Calliope was walking into her bedroom when she heard _The Kid from Redbank_ playing in the kitchen. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." Running awkwardly in her heels, she made it into the kitchen and grabbed her phone right before it when to voicemail.

"Hello?" She gasped out. "Hey. Wait, wait. Slow down. I can't unders– What? What?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The ambulance screamed down the road with four black FBI SUVs screaming after it. Cars dodged out of the way as the ambulance sped faster and faster to the hospital. The red bar past eighty, eighty-five, then ninety and ninety-five until they flew down the parkway at a hundred and three, well over the limit even for emergency vehicles.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope hurricaned into the hospital room, brushing past Derek and Hotch, J.J. and Emily, straight to the man propped up in the bed.

"What the hell were you thinking? Oh my God, I can't believe you were shot! Where? Let me see. No. Don't let me see. I can't handle blood. I'll pass out. Okay, I won't pass out, but I'd probably get sick and that'd be no good. Don't you _ever_ do that to me again, David Rossi!" Calliope sat down on the edge of Dave's bed and stared at him in a mixture of fury and exasperation and relief and love. "Where? Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine, Callie," Dave laughed. "It was a through and through in my side under the vest. It didn't nick anything. I'll be good as new in a week."

"Will it hurt if I hug you?"

"Not all pain's bad," he smiled and Calliope leaned over and hugged him tight. "You better go see Reid, Callie."

"Where is he?"

"I'll take you," Hotch offered. Calliope gave Rossi a last hug and got up to follow Hotch out of the room. "Where's Jack?"

"At home. Brianne came over to watch him for me. They were playing fetch with Perses when I left. Jill's probably passed out by now," Calliope had to walk quickly to keep up with Hotch's long strides. When they made it into the waiting room where Spencer sat on his phone, Hotch nodded and left.

"I know, Princess. I know. I know. Yes, Emeline, of course Maman and I are still coming to see you next month. Yes, Perses too. Okay. You listen to your grandma and Maria, okay? Okay. I love you, Princess. To the moon and back. Bye, Princess," Spencer ended the call and look up to see Calliope where she'd sat next to him. He squeezed her hand and Calliope leaned against him.

"I'm so glad you're alright," she sighed and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"Thanks to Rossi," Spencer kissed her forehead and closed his eyes. Calliope moved back and kissed him in relief. "I love you."

"I love you too, String Bean. What happened?"

"Sweetheart," Spencer closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Okay. Just… just be safer."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Ohhhkayyy... I'm back! Sorry for taking so long. This chapter, for some reason, just would not flow. I have **_**never**_** had that much trouble writing before in my life. You have no idea how close I was to scrapping this chapter and the last and starting the whole thing over. But I didn't. Obviously. I pushed through and got it done. Thank God!**

**So when I was writing the airplane scene, it made me think about the first time I flew by myself. I brought a stapler on the plane. Now, they probably wouldn't let me take on a nail clipper. Haha. Ohhhh! And I can't wait the 12 days until NCIS Season 8 premiers on September 21st and then ONE DAY LATER when Criminal Minds Season 6 premieres on September 22nd! BAH! These next 12 days are going to go by so fucking slowly... MUST SET THE DVR! XD**

**It's my little brother's birthday tomorrow! He's gonna be 18! When did he get so OLD? Last time I checked, he was some punk kid in junior high and now he's a senior soccer and football star. Ugh. I love my little brother. He means everything to me. So I'm going home today after my Logic test to spend the weekend with them. He has a football game on Saturday so Mum and I'll be doing that and all that fun stuff.**

**Also? The BEST NEWS EVER: So. I'm going to Louisiana on the first weekend of October. To New Orleans. And I'm staying at Nottoway Plantation for two days. For those of you out of the know - Nottoway Plantation is the inspiration for Dahlia Plantation. I'm SO unbelievably excited. Oh my God. I can't wait. Add me on Facebook to see the pictures from my trip, and, ya know, to just hang out! I'm getting all excited just thinking about it.**

**One last thing: I've had several requests to make Calliope a Facebook page. Is that something yall would be interested in? I haven't decided yet, so send me a message or add it in your review whether or not you want Calliope to get on Facebook and I'll see.**

**Anyways. I have a Logic test in 40 minutes, so I have to go! Thanks for reading and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	41. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Imperfection is beauty. Madness is genius. It is better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring." – Marilyn Monroe_

o o o o

21 May, 2010

"Women don't eat at all. They just look at food then jump on the treadmill!"

"Now, I know that isn't true. I've seen you eat an entire medium pizza by yourself with a large bag of baby carrots and then go back for chocolate cake," Spencer laughed as he closed the garage door behind him and entered the hallway that eventually led to the kitchen. "Hey, Perses. Yeah, I know. I'm home. Exciting, huh? What's on you? Come here. Stay still for a second."

Spencer squatted down and reached out to touch some of the white powder covering Perses' black coat in large splotches. He raised his fingers to his nose and sniffed before tentatively tasting it. "Pers, why are you wearing flour? C'mon. Let's go find your mom. There's a somewhat understandable, relatively crazy explanation in my future, isn't there?"

"You lost me at carrots, which was the first draft of 'You Had Me at Hello!'" Calliope came into view and Spencer stopped dead when he saw the entire kitchen coated in a layer of what he assumed was also flour. This didn't happen in real life. No one managed to coat an entire kitchen in flour in real life. This only happened in movies or sitcoms. But here she was, standing in the middle of the kitchen, the floors and counters, along with Calliope herself, completely covered in flour, holding a large mixing bowl and large wooden spoon with The Go-Go's coming out of the speakers at an ear-splitting level.

"What the hell happened?"

"Michel, do you want a bagel?"

"Michelle? Who's Mich –" Spencer stopped when she kept on talking as if he hadn't started.

"_No, I do not want a bagel_," Calliope twisted her voice into a nasal French accent before speaking normally for a moment. "Are you sure? They're Kosher." Spencer watched, amused and finally understanding what he witnessed, as she became French again before becoming squeakily female. "_I don't eat bagels. Bagels are like glue in your intestines and ensure that everything that enters your body will remain there until you die._ Ew! Shut up!"

"Gilmore Girls, huh?"

"Ugh, they totally just snuck that modeling thing in. _Hmm, my mom's a model. Maybe you'll get to date Leonardo DiCaprio now. _Plus, now I have to plan the whole stupid thing. _Lorelai Gilmore. Nope, doesn't sound model-y enough. You need something that stands out more. How about Waffle? We could call you Waffle and say you're from Belgium._ Okay, I'm crabby, I need to do something about it." Calliope pulled her mobile from her pocket and pretended to talk into it, turning her head as she switched voices.

"Hey Mom! _Well, hello._ So I went to my first Booster meeting last night, did Bitty tell you? _No, she did not._ Oh, well, maybe she's still stuck under that desk. You might want to send someone out there to look. _Well, it's certainly nice to hear you finally getting involved._ Yes, in fact we're planning a charity fashion show next weekend, and I volunteered to organize it. _Well, good for you._ Yes, and since I know how concerned you are about how Rory's perceived at Chilton, I knew you'd want to be involved somehow, so you're gonna be one of the models.

"_Excuse me?_ Yeah, so it's next Saturday, be there at four, and we'll provide hair and makeup. _Lorelai, you can't be serious._ Oh, and we'll need your measurements also. _This is ridiculous._ Mom. You said you wanted me to be involved. Well, I'm involved, now don't you want to do your part to ensure Rory's future? _All right. _Start measuring." Calliope slipped her now-flour-covered phone back into her pocket and resumed being Rory and Lorelai. "_You feel better now?_ Waffle's very happy."

"Are you done?"

"Hey, I should bring steak sauce, right? _For what? _Pizza. _I just got back from Italy._ So? _So they'd shoot you in Italy for that._ Ah, but this is America, where we unapologetically bastardize other countries' cultures in a gross quest for moral and military supremacy. _I forgot. Bring on the imperialistic condiments._"

"That was weak compared to the last one, Calliope. Only two people and six switches? You're loosing your touch."

"What? Oh, eat your words!" Calliope glared at him. "Okay. You are so on. My favorite. Of all time. You diss it, you die."

"Go."

"Okay. First. To set up the scene. It's Luke and Lorelai's adorable first date. He takes her to his favorite –"

"You can't remember," Spencer smirked, bent over slightly so he could scratch Perses' head. "You're just stalling trying to remember it all." Spencer quickly sidestepped the wooden spoon she threw at him, laughing when it hit the living room wall. "Wow. You got some power behind that one. That's the farthest you've thrown anything."

"Spoons are aerodynamic?"

"Still stalling."

"Eat your words!" Calliope glared at him before stalking over to the kitchen table and becoming Lorelai Gilmore. "Hey, do you remember the first time we met?"

"What?" Calliope moved to Luke's seat and spoke with an attempt at a deep voice.

"I'm just trying to remember the first time we met. It must have been at Luke's, right?" Calliope smiled from Lorelai's seat.

Calliope moved over to Luke's seat again and nodded slowly, "It was at Luke's, it was at lunch, it was a very busy day, the place was packed, and this person…"

"Oooh, is it me? Is it me?" Lorelai bounced a few times in her seat.

"This person comes tearing into the place in a caffeine frenzy."

"Oh, it's me!" Lorelai cooed happily.

Luke smirked, remembering. "I was with a customer. She interrupts me, wild-eyed, begging for coffee, so I tell her to wait her turn. Then she starts following me around, talking a mile a minute, saying God knows what. So, finally, I turn to her and tell her she's being annoying. Sit down. Shut up. I'll get to her when I get to her."

"Ya know," Lorelai nodded understandingly, "I bet she took that very well, 'cause she sounds just delightful."

"She asked me what my birthday was. I wouldn't tell her. She wouldn't stop talking. I gave in. I told her my birthday. Then she opened up the newspaper to the horoscope page. Wrote something down. Tore it out. Handed it to me."

"God, seriously." Lorelai held up the 'menu' and pointed at the restaurants' ridiculously long story printed on the back of the menu, which she had previously mocked. "You wrote the menu, didn't you?"

"So, I'm looking at the piece of paper in my hand and, under Scorpio, she had written, 'You will meet an annoying woman today. Give her coffee and she'll go away.' I gave her coffee."

"But she didn't go away…" Lorelai shook her head grinning.

"She told me to hold on to that horoscope, put it in my wallet, and carry it around with me," Luke reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and gave her the slip of newsprint tucked inside, "one day it would bring me luck."

"Well, man, I will say anything for a cup of coffee," Lorelai teased before growing serious as she read her own handwriting. "Um… I can't believe you kept this. You kept this in your wallet? You kept this in your wallet."

"Eight years," Luke told her seriously.

"Eight years," Lorelai repeated emotionally.

Calliope stood up and smiled while Spencer stared at her, dumbfounded.

"That… that was terrifying."

"I have mad skills," Calliope laughed, taking a deep bow. "You may applaud now. Go on. I want and deserve applause."

Spencer laughed, but clapped with acceptable enthusiasm. Perses started barking, not quite sure what was going on. The dog shook himself and flour puffed out of his long coat. "I'm going to have to give you a bath this weekend, aren't I?"

Perses looked up at Spencer with his tongue lulling out one side of this mouth and stood up on two legs, his front paws leaving white blotches on Spencer's dark blue button down. Spencer shook Perses' head with both hands and laughed as the dog bounced on his hind legs happily.

"Love me and I'll leave you. I told you at the start. I had no idea that you would tear my world apart! And you're the one… to blame! I used to know… my name! But I've lost control of the game!" Calliope spun around in circles dancing and singing along with Belinda Carlisle. She started to air guitar for a moment before giving up, realizing she didn't have the coordination to spin wildly, not knock things over and air guitar all at the same time. So she picked her favourite two and kept singing.

"How much coffee have you had today?"

"I don't know. But probably six or seven cups too many," she laughed as she stopped spinning, but the room kept on at it. Calliope stumbled forward, a little wobbly, right into his arms and hugged him. "I'm on base! You can't tag me! I don't wanna be 'it'!"

"I really need to start taking the coffee machine to work with me in the morning," Spencer shook his head. "I leave it here and you overdose."

"I'm addicted! I can't stop. Don't take away my drugs! I can't handle the detox! I won't go! I won't go to rehab! They tried to make me go to rehab, I said, 'No, no, no!' Yes, I've been black, but when I come back you'll know, know, know. I ain't got the ti-ime and if my daddy thinks I'm fi-ine. He's tried to make me go to rehab, I won't go, go, go!"

"You need some serious help."

"I agree. It's going to take forever to clean this all up."

"I wasn't talking about… you know what, nevermind."

"I was watching _The Cleaner_ reruns today and that song came on. So that's why I thought of it. _The Cleaner_ was such a good show. I wish they hadn't cancelled it. I couldn't watch it often because I started having creepy dreams, so I only watched every once in a while. Hmmm… maybe that's why it was cancelled. Maybe everyone started having creepy dreams. I'm brilliant! I have solved the quandary of life!"

"You're _something_. I'm not sure _what_ exactly it is, but you're definitely something."

"And yet you like me."

"I should have my head examined," Spencer drew his lips into a pursed line, pretending to be concerned, but the smile in his eyes gave him away.

"Are you going to kiss me now? You are so incredibly predictable," Calliope said breathlessly when he pulled her close.

"You or Gilmore Girls?" Spencer asked as he pressed a kiss against her neck.

"Gilmore Girls," she laughed.

"Strangest woman I know," Spencer shook his head and kissed her. "Okay… Why does our kitchen look like something out of CandyLand?"

"I was trying to make cookies," Calliope told him factually and without a hint of shame or embarrassment.

"And that involved coating the kitchen in flour how?"

"I'm just going to start from the beginning."

"That would probably be wise as I've already seen the ending."

"Hush you! Jack's football team's having a bake sale next weekend. I'm not really sure what they need the money for because it was really hard to concentrate that entire meeting. I kept sneezing. The woman next to me was blanketed in cat hair. And I didn't have any Benadryl on me. So I spent the entire time itching and sneezing and debating whether or not to use my EpiPen. I didn't, by the way."

"If you had, you'd have told me by now. Right?"

"Sure…"

"Calliope!"

"I would tell you! I was kidding. Shesh. Keep your socks on, Spencer. I need to sober up and you need to light up," Calliope leaned her head back and started laughing hysterically at her own joke. "Oh dear… there is no cure for my madness. Sorry, String Bean. You're doomed. Doomed. DOOMED! Doomed forever to… I don't know where I was going with that one. Where was I?"

"Football parent meeting, cat, no Benadryl, EpiPen."

"Right. Then I cued the Spencer Spaz Out, quite masterfully, I might add. One word. It only took one word that time. Damn, I'm good. Okay. So I was scratching my arms and trying not to be too obvious about it as I attempted to claw my eyes out, right? Yeah. And then I reached up to scratch my neck, which was apparently when I volunteered to bring cookies. I need to start keeping Benadryl in my purse. Because I was planning on volunteering to run the actual sale, not supply the actual food. I'm much better at running things than cooking things."

"Much better," Spencer agreed.

"Hey! I haven't poisoned you yet, have I?"

"'Yet' being the operative word."

"You're mean," Calliope pouted.

"I can afford to be mean. I can cook."

"I don't like this argument."

"You don't like it because you're loosing."

"I know! Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?"

"You're just getting to the good part," Spencer smiled. "You can't stop now."

"Okay. So I had to go to the store to buy… everything but the butter actually. And the salt. Our pantry is not very well stocked for from-scratch cooking. We didn't have vanilla or the pecans or flour or confectioner's sugar. Oh! I found out what confectioner's sugar is today! It'd just a fancy word for powdered sugar. I was so excited. I was going up and down the isle trying to find 'confectioner's sugar' until this old woman finally took pity on me and helped me. All the bags said 'confectioner's powdered' or something along those lines and I was about to loose it. I was like, 'I'm not looking for confectioner's powdered! I'm looking for plain confectioner's!' If I had shame, I probably would have been embarrassed when she explained to me that confectioner's sugar _was_ powdered sugar. Yeah… Good thing I have no shame. Glad I got over that years ago.

"Now I'm at home, right? I have all the ingredients and I turned on The Go-Go's. The perfect Calliope's-attempting-to-cook music. It's very all-purpose. Anyways. I was scooping out two cups of flour for the first batch and Perses started barking at a squirrel in the backyard. I turned to tell him to shut up and accidently hit the bag with my elbow. The bag goes off the counter. Ka-Boom! Flour everywhere. And of course the idiot comes running in to see what happened and stirs up all the flour, gets it in his fur, the air, traced it around the living room with his paws. You know, normal Perses stuff. I'm leaning down to pick up the bag – a good deal of it was still in the bag – and I'm almost all the way up with the flour and Perses shook himself and some gets up my nose and I sneezed. And dropped it again. So the rest of the flour comes out of the bag and everything on the floor gets poofed back out in the air.

"I tried to be mad at Perses and tell him he was a bad dog and all that stuff, but he was just sitting there in the middle of the flour looking completely pleased with himself. He's like half covered in flour with this big goofy grin on his face, daring me to be mad at him. So of course I start laughing and that just gets him even more excited, so he's bouncing around and flour's getting kicked up everywhere… Yeah. That's about where we were when you came in."

"My life has never been boring since I met you."

"Awww," Calliope smiled and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. She pulled his head down to hers, pushing herself up onto her toes to kiss him. "That… that is quite possibly that sweetest thing you have ever said to me, Dr. Reid. Oh, no. I got flour all over you! Oh, no. I don't think those pants can be washed. I think they have to go to the cleaners."

"I think they'll survive, Sweetheart," Spencer laughed again and pulled her close. "It's just flour. It is just flour, right?"

"Unless drug cartels started using King Arthur Unbleached and All-Purpose Flour to smuggle heroin and cocaine into Virginia, yes, it's all flour."

"You're such a smartass."

"So I've been told. How'd the guest lecture go? Did you terrify half the students? Leave them completely baffled and confused? Do you have any followers? Any cute college girls fall madly in love with you? Huh? Huh, huh, huh?"

"You _really_ need to drink less coffee. It went well. The professor said he'd like to have me back next semester for another lecture or two. And I don't think I left anyone baffled or confused. They seemed to have a good grasp on what I was talking about. And thanks for putting those little pause comments in my notes, goof. I actually used them," Spencer tickled her sides and she laughed, squirming in his arms.

"You talk fast when you get nervous!" Calliope defended herself, still trying to wiggle away from his fingers. "You forget to stop and breath. Plus, they're college kids. They have to take notes and you don't – Ah! Stop! Stop!"

"I said 'thank you,'" he smiled against her hair, kissing her temple. "I wasn't teasing you. Okay, I was, but I was still being serious. Thank you. I'm sure the students in that class would be thanking you too if they knew you put them there."

"Oh. Well in that case. Nevermind. So… how long do you think it's gonna take to clean the kitchen?" Calliope looked warily around the snowy-looking room.

"Honestly? I'm leaning towards asking Dean if we can borrow the garages' Shop Vac," Spencer grimaced, surveying the disaster before them. "Why didn't you just _buy_ cookies?"

"It's a bake sale! It's all supposed to be homemade," Calliope sighed.

"You could have had Halina home make them."

"I know… but I wanted to… I dunno. It was one of those 'how bad could it be?' kind of things. By the way, if you ever have to ask yourself 'how bad could it be?' run, don't walk, to the nearest exit. Because it can always be worse than what you're thinking about. Exhibit AZ."

"AZ?"

"Oh yeah. I've been through the alphabet twice with examples of 'oh it can be bad.' And that's just the ones I remember. I think I just wanted to try and fit in with the rest of the women there. I'm the youngest by almost a decade and they all look at me like I'm an alien. No, they don't know about who I am; they just think I'm Jack's aunt, which I kind of like. I like being normal and living under the radar. Maybe I should stop putting the strips in my hair."

"I don't know," Spencer smiled and squeezed her shoulders. "I like the strips. They're very you. Fun, a little crazy, silly. They always make people smile. And you do a very good job of living under the radar, but I'm not saying anything about normality." Calliope shoved him away, rolling her eyes and smiling. "I guess we should start cleaning up Exhibit AZ before it starts traveling to the rest of the house."

"Picture first. I mean… this just screams Kodak Moment. Plus, Ethel would kill me if I didn't get a picture." Spencer took a picture of Calliope and Perses sitting on the flour in the middle of the kitchen and then put the camera on a timer and set it down on the end table. He sat next to her and they both smiled happily when the red light blinked once, twice, three times before being followed by a flash and a click. Calliope checked both the pictures, starting to laugh again. "Classic. I have to send this to Penelope. Totally making this my Facebook picture. You really do need a haircut though, Magician."

"I'll go get one tomorrow."

"Did you like teaching today? I asked if it went well, but I didn't ask if you liked it," Calliope connected the camera to the iMac sitting on the counter in the corner of the kitchen and turned around to look at him.

"I'm not sure. Guest lecturing is different than teaching though, I'd imagine. Guest lecturers only have to have the student's attention and respect for one or two classes, but a professor has to keep them for an entire semester."

"Okay… Did you enjoy guest lecturing today?" Calliope smiled and reworded her question in an attempt to keep him on track before he went off on some other tangent about teaching that was only slightly related to the original question. That wasn't exactly fair of her, she knew, because she got distracted and when on tangents all the time.

"I think so. I know I'm getting a better with each lecture. Less awkward. I hope."

"Don't let that get out," she teased, tugging on his tie. "They'll be asking you to teach classes at the FBI Academy if they hear you're getting less awkward in front of classrooms full of students. The genius profiler a professor of criminal psychology."

"A professor?" Spencer smiled, leaning down to kiss her. "I'm barely older than some of the students at the FBI Academy. I'm _not_ older than some of them."

"Who wouldn't respect the genius profiler?"

"Where's Jill?" Spencer asked.

"What?" Calliope whispered in confusion as she broke their kiss long enough to respond. "She's with Keely tonight. She'll be back in a few hours. Jill and I are having a movie night tonight, remember? Ah!" Spencer swept her up in his arms and kissed her, kicking up more flour in the process. Calliope laughed when she realized he was headed towards their bedroom. "Is this my extra credit, Dr. Reid? I don't think I read this under the acceptable extra credit opportunities on page nine of the student handbook! You only made Kevin write an essay!"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope closed her eyes and snuggled into Spencer's arms. He was gone so often that she had always savoured moments like this, but had come to appreciate them more since Dave had been shot protecting her Spencer. She knew she'd never be allowed to know exactly how close Spencer had been to not coming home last week and she had a feeling she'd rather not know even if she had the option. It was easier to believe he and the rest of the team was safe when she didn't know exactly how much danger they were really in.

"What's going on in that brilliant brain of yours?" Calliope asked as Spencer kissed her forehead and squeezed her.

"I'm looking forward to going to see Emeline next month," he admitted. "I miss her."

"I miss her too. I need to finish her room."

"What do you have left to do?"

"Just arranging the furniture and setting everything up. I have everything… I just need to put it all together," Calliope opened her eyes and reached up to brush some hair away from Spencer's face. Spencer bent his head down and kissed her.

"Do you want any help?"

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

"I'd love some help. How are you with pastels, frills and glittery things?"

"I think I can handle it," Spencer smiled.

"Wow… I'm impressed, Dr. Reid. A man of many talents."

"What are you thinking about, Sweetheart?"

"Is Dave okay?"

"Rossi's fine. He's back at work and everything. It was a clean, through-and-through that didn't hit any veins or arteries. The bullet just went through muscle. Actually, it was mostly just fat and a little bit of muscle. In a month, the only proof that it ever happened is going to be the scar. You don't have to worry about Rossi. I promise."

Calliope sighed and pushed herself up onto one elbow to look at him where he lay next to her. "I love you, Baby. More than anything, but don't make promises you can't keep."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"What flavour do you want?"

"Ben and Jerry's?" Jill grabbed two spoons out of the drawer, knocking it closed with her hip.

"There are other kinds of ice cream?" Calliope pulled out a carton of Coffee Heath Bar Crunch for herself and turned to look at her friend.

"Good point. Mudslide?" Calliope pulled out the asked for carton and tossed it to her. "Merci. Here's your spoon."

"String Bean?" Calliope called out.

"I'm in my office."

"Do you want anything from the kitchen?"

"No, thanks though."

"I'll be right back, Jill. I'm just going to go say goodnight." Calliope said before sashaying down the hall to Spencer's office. Pushing the door open, she smiled at the sweet image Spencer made. He was leaning back in his chair reading, with his feet up on the desk, and Perses lounged across his lap, chewing on one of his old shirts. "You know, String Bean, another month or so and Perses is going to be too heavy to sit on you like that. He's hanging off on both sides of the chair as it is. One of you is going to make a wrong move and you're both going down."

"I think we're managing alright," he smiled, twisting his head to look at her. "Where's Jill?"

"Setting up the movie. I wanted to come say goodnight." Calliope put her ice cream and spoon on the bookshelf and moved over to him, scratching Perses' head and kissing Spencer. "You're okay with this, right?"

"Of course. She's only been home for a week or so. I get to see you every night… that I'm not on a case… hmmm… maybe I'm not okay with this." Spencer smiled at her, kissing her again. "Yes, Calliope. I'm fine with it. Just like I've told you the past fourteen times you've asked me."

"And now it's been fifteen times. You know I like my multiples of five," she teased, kissing him a third time.

"If you keep doing that, you're not going to make it back to Jill," he warned, placing his hand at the nap of her neck and kept kissing her.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Now go back to your sister before I keep you here with me."

"Shesh! So demanding," she joked, kissing Perses on the nose and scratching him behind the ear.

"He's going to be confused tonight. He's never slept away from you."

"I think he'll be ok. He's got his daddy to take care of the big scared puppy."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Sweetheart."

"Night, Mr. Magic."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The opening credits of _Steel Magnolias_ played on the flat screen mounted on the wall of the guest room Jill was staying in. Annelle walked down a picturesque southern Louisiana street with overarching trees on each side of the street. Names in white script appeared across the bottom portion of the screen and Calliope and Jill called out the names as they appeared, same as they'd always done since they were kids.

The movie had been a favourite of both Calliope and Jill since before they could remember. They used to watch it with Keely and Brenda at Dahlia and the four of them would bawl themselves silly while inhaling some sort of sweet and Brenda's famous sweet tea with peach. Brenda was the only one who ever made it to the end of the movie when they were kids. The girls would nod off one at a time until they were all asleep and Brenda would go get Ben and he'd carry each of the girls one at a time to their respective bedrooms.

"Why are you with him? He just doesn't seem like your type," Jill shifted on the bed and nearly knocked over the untouched bowl of popcorn and the bag of Twizzlers.

"Jill! Spencer is exactly my type. I couldn't fine a man better than him if I spent a millennium trying to find one. He's completely perfect for me. I thought you liked him."

"Explain it to me, then, Calliope. Because I think you're crazy. I've never met anyone so completely opposite you."

"Do you seriously think I could function with someone like me? Two of me and the house would burn down from the chaos. Plus… way boring."

"Well, I guess you're right about that one," Jill giggled, digging a spoon into her carton of Mudslide. "Do you remember in college when Greg Blakely asked you out?"

"Oh my god, that was the worst date ever! Probably one of the world's funniest dates too. God, if only someone had been taping that. We could have edited it down and it would have won Americas Funniest Home Videos easy." Calliope clutched her side, unable to stop laughing as she remembered the horrible night. "He was just like me and it was so boring. We kept saying the same things and he took me to my favorite restaurant saying 'No one knows about this place.' Stupid idiot tried to order for me. Ha. And then that stupid romantic walk around campus? What the hell was that? He tried to make a move and knocked me into the fountain… Jeeze, thanks a lot, J. I had almost managed to repress that night."

"Glad to be of service. And he wouldn't have knocked you into the fountain if you hadn't evaded." Jill smiled, taking another spoonful of ice cream.

"Why the hell would I want that _thing_ slobbering all over me? I'd probably have gotten some terrible, incurable disease if I even let him so much as breathe on me. Ugh… Now you're just trying to make me nauseated so you can have the rest of my ice cream when I can't eat it because I'm so grossed out."

"Okay, so seriously now. Explain the genius to me."

"Jilly, he's perfect. Just give him a chance and you'll love him. He's incredibly smart."

"We've covered that, silly. You're on the opposite spectrums of the IQ chart. Give me the good stuff."

"Ok, so, when we met, he was reading _Odyssey_ at the The Hobbit Hole. You know that's my favorite, so I had to go talk to him. No one else had picked it up in ages. We spent half an hour just challenging each other about random facts. It was great, J. I left without telling him my name and he came back every night that he wasn't on a case to see if I was there."

"How'd you know he went back?"

"I watched him come and go, looking for me. I finally met him again and he tried to ask me to dinner, but he lost his nerve and almost left. We went to Capital Ale House and it was wonderful. He was so cute and nervous. He was adorable, Jill. At the end of the night, he got called away on a case. But, before he left, he drove me home and asked if he could call me some time." Calliope shoved a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, smiling at the memory.

"Ok, so he was endearingly awkward. There are tons of guys like that. Why him?" Jill grabbed a pillow and shoved it behind her back as a cushion between her and the headboard she used as a backrest.

"He doesn't know how wonderful he is. When he catches me watching him, he looks around for whatever I'm looking at or down to see if he knocked coffee on himself and didn't notice. He's a huge klutz, especially when he's thinking. It's like, once he's in his brain, he has no control over what his limbs are doing. Like this adorably bumbling hurricane, knocking things over, spilling things. It's so cute.

"He teases me about my caffeine addiction, but every morning he makes me coffee before he goes to work. Or at least sets up the machine so all I have to do is press the button. Whenever he's away on a case, he sends me flowers. Never roses, always something interesting and unexpected. He says that roses are too common for me, that I need something more unique. Once, he was in Texas and he sent me a bouquet of bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes."

"Okay… that is kinda cute," Jill conceded. "Twizzler, please. Thank you."

"Why don't you like him?" Calliope asked and took a Twizzler for herself.

"I do like him."

"Then what's with the interrogation?" Calliope rolled over on her back and pushed herself up so she was looking at Jill instead of Sally Field force-feeding Julia Roberts orange juice.

"You're my baby sister! I have to make sure you're not settling for him or something."

"Jill, I'm not your baby sister. I'm your sister; I'll always be your sister. I've been stuck with you for twenty-four years and I've kinda gotten used to you over the years. But I'm not the baby. I'm three months younger than you, Jill. I need your love and support, but I don't need you to take care of me," Calliope held her breath and waited. She'd practiced that speech in the mirror over and over again until she probably could have recited it backwards. But the mirror didn't respond to her when she finished. The mirror just hung on the wall showing her reflection. Jill could react. Jill could be hurt or offended or sad.

For long moments, the brunette didn't respond, just sat there holding her ice cream container with both hands like a small child. Calliope shifted onto her hands and knees and crawled over to her sister, putting both ice cream containers on the nightstand and snuggling next to her, wrapping her arms around her. Jill hugged Calliope back and neither one spoke.

"You can take care of me when I'm sick," Calliope whispered and Jill let out a laugh and squeezed her.

"I'm going to make you regret saying that. You'll have chicken soup coming out of your chimney."

"Oh dear. Good thing I have the number of a good chimney sweep. I'll tell him to bring a Wet Vac and scuba equipment."

"I just want to make sure this is really want you want."

"I know, Jaybird. But I do want this. I want _him_. I love him just like you love Steve. Spencer and I might not be a normal pairing, but neither is marrying someone twelve years your senior," Calliope rested her head on Jill's shoulder and Jill rested hers on Calliope's head. "My entire life's been planned out since before I was born, Jill. Ha! My entire life's been planned out since sixteen ninety-four! Spencer… he's one of the things few I've chosen for myself. It's been almost two years and I've never once regretted my choice."

"Good. Because I really do like him and I'd kinda be sad to see him go."

"I would be too. You want your ice cream back?"

"I'm me and I'm pregnant. What do you think the answer is?"

"No. I knew you wouldn't want it. I'll just finish it for you. I mean… I wouldn't want you to feel pressured into eating the ice cream when you so obviously don't want it," Calliope giggled, mostly from relief, and grabbed both ice cream cartons.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

22 May, 2010

Calliope stumbled out of the guestroom the next morning more than completely exhausted. A simple movie night had turned into a movie marathon night and they hadn't gone to bed until the sun was beginning to rise.

"Coffee… need coffee… Hey Spencer," Calliope mumbled, stopping to kiss the man sitting at the bar with the newspaper, and then continued on towards the coffee machine. "Coffee beans… mmm, smells good."

Calliope pressed the button and leaned her forehead against the machine as it grumbled to life. Her eyes were closed and she yawned while the coffee beans were ground down and steaming liquid slowly began filling her mug. She took her coffee when the machine stopped and carried it over to the fridge before adding milk and sugar. Clutching her coffee, she made her way to the bar and sat down next to Spencer, who watched her with amusement.

Inhaling the coffee smell, Calliope smiled sleepily and raised the mug to her lips, taking a few deep gulps. "Coffee is so good. Whoever discovered coffee should be made a saint – right up there with Mother Teresa. Coffee is like God, but in liquid form."

"That would probably be some unknown Ethiopian from the fifteenth century," Spencer grinned, looking back down at his copy of the _New York Times_.

"Well, he's a God in my book," Calliope took another sip and turned her head to look at him again. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God!"

"What?" Spencer asked confused when he looked up to see her staring at him like he'd sprouted tentacles.

"You look like a Backstreet Boy!"

* * *

**A/N:**

**OH MY GOD, IT'S MAGIC CHAPTER 40!**

**Hey guys! Oh man. So much is going on around here! The house I grew up in is two shakes away from being on the market. That's a little bitter sweet for me. It's going to be so weird not having a 'home,' ya know? Or diving by it and knowing some other family is living inside. Okay. If I keep thinking about it, I'm going to get all emotional.**

**Football's in full swing now and Little Brother and Bonus Brother's #2, #3 and #4 are all kicking butt. (#1 doesn't play football). The team's 4-0! I'm so proud of my boys. No matter how much I want to throttle them sometimes, I wouldn't trade a single one of them for anything in the world. The last time I was home, LB and BB#2 had fished out LB's old Nintendo 64 and they were hysterical. They were up in the game room playing Mario Cart and I swear I was ready to fall over laughing so hard. The way they were yelling and hollering, youda thought they were battlin each other for a million dollars. I wish I'd had a camera to tape them because I'd be watching it right now and laughing my butt off.**

**I have some bad news, too. Well, for me anyways. I had to cancel my trip to Louisiana to see Nottoway, but I got a full refund, so it's not all that bad. I can reschedule and go another time. The worst news if that my Uncle #3, who is also my Godfather, is experiencing liver failure. I don't get to see him often at all because he lives very, very far away in Northern Canada and, well, you know I live in Texas. I don't tell him nearly as often as I should, if fact I rarely tell him at all because I rarely talk to him, but I love him very, very much. I really need to tell him that. The doctors are saying there's not much they can do other than to keep him comfortable. They sent him home a couple of days ago and he's feeling well enough to battle it out with his wife about whether or not he's going to go away to a retreat to relax like the doctors suggested. In my family, arguing is a good sign. If you're a praying sort of person, please, just keep my uncle in your prayers. I'm not ready to say goodbye to him and I know my aunt and cousin and his grandbabies are ready to say goodbye either. He's a very loved man.**

**Okay. I really need to think of something happy. Let's see... happy image, happy image. Oh! Oh! I've got one. You ready? MGG and KVangs racing down that gigantic hill in San Francisco (the one Anne Hathaway rolled down in _The Princess Diaries_) on sparkly pink Razor scooters with streamers on the handles. Yes. That will do. That will definitely do. Hehehe.**

**Other news: I put new pictures up in my PhotoBucket because I forgot to put them up last update. Sorry yall! To see the new ones go to "Calliope's Outfits" and look under "Airport" and "Reoccurring". There's also a new pic of what Perses would look like at roughly 8 months old.**

**That's for reading! (and reading that ridiculously long A/N too!) ****Love yall so much!** I'm going to go grab some lunch and some Diet Dr. Pepper! Please, tell me what you think! Good or bad! 

**Love, Thalia**


	42. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_To spare oneself from grief at all cost can be achieved only at the price of total detachment, which excludes the ability to experience happiness." – Erich Fromm_

o o o o

12 July, 2010

Spencer's voice was soft and loving as he read to Emeline. His arms wrapped around the little girl, cuddling her close in his lap as he held the book open with one hand. Emeline's head rested on his chest and her thumb was stuck in her mouth, her eyes glued to the pictures of princesses on the page.

Kissing the top of her head, he waited until she finished staring at the princesses' dresses before turning the page to the next. Perses lay curled up on the orange floor rug covering the bamboo floor and chewing on one of Spencer's socks that was now mangled beyond recognition.

"Poppy? What's those?" Emeline took her thumb out of her mouth and pointed at one of the princesses' dresses.

"What are those?" Spencer corrected and dried the spit from her thumb. "Those are grapes." Emeline pointed to a different dress and looked at him expectantly. "Those are oranges. You know oranges, silly."

"Yum. Can I have a dress of orngees?" Emeline tugged on his shirt and stuck out her bottom lip. Spencer laughed, hugging her close and kissing her.

"Oranges. That, you're going to have to ask your Maman about." Emeline pouted a little, but stuck her thumb back in her mouth and snuggled back down, smacking the book in an unvoiced demand to continue reading. Turning the page, Spencer started reading the text as Emeline stared at the pictures.

"Getting sleepy, Princess?"

Emeline shook her head no, but Spencer could tell she was nodding off. He put the book on the table next to the chair in which they sat and wrapped her up in his arms more securely. Emeline curled up and closed her eyes.

"Mwen renmen'w, Poppy."

"Mwen renmen'w," Spencer returned the affection and kissed the top of her head. Every time she said 'I love you, Poppy,' she captured more of his heart and he hated that he and Calliope had to leave tomorrow. He hated that he couldn't take his little girl home with him, that he had to leave her in Haiti with a grandmother who was so obviously unable to provide proper care for the three year old. Spencer watched the toddler carefully as they sat and only looked away from her when the door opened and Calliope slipped into the room.

"Maman," Emeline mumbled and raised her arms for Calliope to pick her up.

"Hey, Sweetie," Calliope whispered, kissing the little girl as she took her from Spencer. "Looks like Poppy wore you out, huh? What'd you two cuties read tonight?"

"_The Twelve Dancing Princesses_," Spencer stood and held up the thin paperback illustrated by Errol Le Cain.

"Pretty dresses."

"Yeah, I remember Grandpa reading that one to me," Calliope smiled. Emeline yawned and wrapped her arms around her maman's neck. "I think it's bedtime, Eme."

"Sleep with Maman and Poppy?" Calliope and Spencer shared a silent conversation before Calliope nodded.

"Sure, Sweetie. You can sleep with us tonight."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer and Calliope stayed up talking long after Emeline had fallen asleep. Emeline lay snuggled between them, one small hand reaching out to her poppy and one reaching out to her maman. All week, she'd clung to one or both of them. Emeline refused to let them out of her sight for long and Spencer didn't blame his little girl. She had every right to be wary of leaving them, because they might not be there when she looked back.

And tomorrow they wouldn't be. Tomorrow, he and Calliope were flying back to Virginia.

"I don't want to leave her here, Spencer," Calliope whispered, glancing up from Emeline to Spencer.

"I don't either."

"I so torn. I mean, I know we can't take her home, not legally. If we did, we'd be kidnapping her, but, at the same time, how can we leave her here? Chanté can barely take care of herself, much less Eme. Maria's the one caring for her. And it's dangerous here. I can't leave my baby here, Spencer. Not again."

Spencer nodded, leaning down to kiss Emeline's head. He didn't want to leave her here where the only thing keeping her safe was a tall barbed wire fence surrounding the community in Petionville.

"She'll be safe," Spencer said, hoping his voice didn't give away the fact that he was thinking the exact opposite of what he was saying. "There's the fence and armed guards. Maria is a competent caregiver. She'll keep Emeline safe."

"Maria's not her maman. Maria, as wonderful as she is, is just the nanny."

"I know, Calliope. I know. I don't want to leave her either. But we don't have a choice."

"And that just makes it right? That just makes it okay?"

"No," he shook his head, "It makes it reality."

"Well… I reject this reality and I want to substitute my own. One I like. Where's the coin slot for that?"

"The range from which you can quote never fails to astound me."

"Your sudden desire to look like longer haired Matthew Morrison still confuses me. So we're even."

"Do you want me to cut my hair shorter?" Spencer sighed and rolled his eyes.

"I don't know yet."

"You're just going to continue to make comments until you decide."

"Maybe. I dunno. It's kind of growing on me."

"I love you, but you're insane."

"I know. I need non-crazy pills or something."

"Wouldn't that make you a different person? If they took everything out of your personality that was crazy, there wouldn't be any of you left."

"Hmmm… you make a good point."

"I always do."

"Egotistical."

"Psychotic."

"I want my white flag."

"I think Emeline's sleeping on it," Spencer leaned over and kissed her briefly.

"Darn. I love you, String Bean."

"I love you too, Sweetheart. When you were telling Eme the story of Hercules a few days ago, why did you go with the Disney version of the story?"

"Well… considering that the real version has Hercules more like Ramon Salcido and Zeus like Lothario, I thought the Disney version was a little more appropriate for a three year old. Plus, if I told her the traditional version and then she watched the movie, she'd get confused," Calliope traced her fingers over Emeline's sleeping face, smiling softly. "When did life get so good, Spencer?"

"Around July thirty-first two thousand and eight."

"That wasn't what I meant. Really sweet, but not what I meant. I meant… I meant, you and me, working again. Not completely dysfunctional. Semi-normal, because if we were fully normal, well, that'd just be confusing because neither one of us is normal. Hey… I just thought of something. If we're both half-normal, do we make one whole normal person since we're together?"

"I don't think it works that way, Sweetheart," Spencer smiled, closing his eyes and settling in more comfortably.

"Spencer?" Calliope whispered a while later.

"Yes?"

"I'm really happy. Have I told you lately?"

Spencer opened his eyes and smiled at her. "No, you haven't. But I'm glad."

"Can we stay like this forever?" Calliope brushed some hair back out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. "Just like this?"

"I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Because, eventually, people will come looking for us if we don't go home."

"Darn that U.S. government wanting to retrieve their best profiler."

"I'd be more concerned about who and what Brenda would send out in search for you."

"Bounty hunters, the Marines, the Coast Guard and Air Force! Scotland Yard would be called," Calliope kept her voice in a whisper, but looked like she was about ready to fall into a fit of laughter. "The U.S. Marshalls would be brought in. Oh, oh. And psychics and the CIA and bounty hunters. I already said bounty hunters. Especially Dog the Bounty Hunter. Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Horatio Caine, Dr. Gil Grissom, Mac Taylor."

"You're not allowed to watch procedural shows."

"Why not?"

"You watched one episode of NCIS with García and had nightmares for over a week."

"Can I watch CSI:Miami? It's funny. David Caruso is hysterical when he's trying to be serious. Ohhh, and communists."

"Communists?"

"To come find me. Mammy would send communists."

"Oh. Why communists?"

"Intense determination."

"You're cracked."

"And, yet, you love me. So what does it say about the man who fell in love with the cracked egg, huh? Does that make you cracked too?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

13 July, 2010

"Don't go, Poppy!"

Emeline's crying broke Spencer's heart as he hugged her as close as he possibly could. He did _not_ want to leave. At all. Emeline's arms were wrapped tightly around his neck and he could feel her tears on his skin. Kissing her hair, he rocked her, shifting back and forth from foot to foot.

"I know, Princess. I don't want to go, Emeline."

"Stay. Stay with me, Poppy."

"I can't, Eme. I have to go back to Virginia."

"No! Poppy stay with Emeline!" Emeline shouted shrilly and started kicking her feet, smacking his back with her heels and shaking her head. Full tantrum mood and Spencer didn't blame her one bit.

"I can't," he whispered, "I want to, Princess Emeline. I do."

Emeline kept screaming and crying and Spencer kissed her forehead. Finally sitting down, Spencer cuddled her close and let her cry. Calliope stood twenty yards or so away, trying to give them some time along together, but, when Spencer looked up, he could see her crying.

Both his girls were crying and he couldn't fix it. And knowing that, knowing there was not one single thing he could do to make any of this better, killed him. He was beginning to better understand why some parents kidnapped their children.

"Princess, I love you so, so much," Spencer told her, extricating himself from her death grip around his neck and wiping her cheeks dry. "I love you more than anything in the whole world."

"No, you don't!" she wailed, burying her face in his chest. "Don't leave Emeline!"

Calliope sat next to Spencer and leaned against him. Kissing her temple, he felt her arm slink around his waist. He whispered that he loved her in her ear and she nodded, running a hand over Emeline's head.

"Maman doesn't love Emeline," the little girl sniffed and Spencer saw Calliope's eyes well with tears.

"Oh, Baby, you know that's not true," she shook her head and helped Emeline climb into her lap. "Maman and Poppy love you very, very much."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Ms. Sellers, do you want anything?" the stewardess whose name Calliope couldn't remember stood up as Calliope closed the bedroom door behind her. She, Spencer and Perses had walked directly to the small bedroom compartment in the back when they boarded the jet. The stewardess was being paid to sit and watch television, because neither Spencer nor Calliope wanted to be bothered.

"No, thank you," she shook her head and walked to the bathroom and the stewardess went back to watching _The Bachelorette_ reruns. Closing and locking the bathroom door, Calliope leaned over the sink and splashed her face with water. She almost laughed when she glanced in the mirror and saw her face.

Her eyes were red and bloodshot, the skin around them were puffy and inflamed. Not enough cold compresses in the world to return her eyes to normal before tomorrow afternoon. Her nose was red and rubbed raw from being blown so many times in such a short period. God, she was attractive right now.

The plane would be landing in Virginia soon and a car service would take them home from there. She just wanted to be home. She just wanted to be home and lie down and sleep for several days. She loved every moment she spent with Emeline, but leaving her was even more difficult the second time. She wanted her daughter.

Just her luck, the one thing she wanted more than anything else in the entire world was the one thing not even her money could buy. Priceless paintings? Sure. Cars worth more than houses? Why not? Businesses? Property? Her own island? If she wanted. A country? Probably. Emeline Noel? Nope.

Calliope splashed her face a few more times before patting it dry and returning to the bedroom. Spencer sat in the chair, his hand flying across the page of his latest letter to his mother. He looked up when she reentered.

"It's going to get better, right?" She asked, sitting down on the bed.

"It's going to get better," he repeated, not believing it for one second.

"Thanks," Calliope offered a sad smile and scratched Perses behind the ear when he plopped his head in her lap.. She knew Spencer was lying; she hadn't expected him to be honest. He wasn't going to say, 'No. It's going to continue being hell. Sorry.'

"She's going to be okay," he said, more to himself this time.

"She's going to be okay," she whispered. Spencer slipped the letter into a folder to finish later and went over to her. They sat together without talking until the nameless stewardess knocked on the door and said they were about to begin their 'decent into Virginia.'

Before either one of them truly realized it, they were climbing down the steps to the tarmac. Perses pranced ahead of them, looking back every few steps to check that they were still walking behind him. Spencer had his messenger bag and a duffle bag hanging from his shoulder and Calliope dragged a green suitcase behind her, their hands clasped together.

"Where's the ca – oh damn it. Seriously?" Calliope scowled when two familiar bodies got out of a car a football field away. Derek and Penelope smiled and waved; Penelope ran over, followed by Derek at a much more sedate pace. "We called a car service."

"Yeah, I called and cancelled that," Penelope waved her comment away and hugged her. "Why spend the money when we can pick you up? Plus, I missed you two!"

Calliope looked over Penelope's shoulder to Spencer and asked, "What is the point of possessing several billion dollars if no one lets you spend it?"

"Hey. Be happy, Luce. I brought you coffee."

"Coffee is good. So is not completely invading my… I don't know what this would fall under. Personal business? I dunno."

"Well, I knew you'd be sad when you got home and I thought you'd want a friend," Penelope looked a little hurt.

"I'm sorry," Calliope sighed. "I'm upset and lashing. Friends?"

"Always," Penelope smiled and they hugged again, a proper hug this time – one Calliope actually participated in. "How is she?"

"Another topic, please."

"I found a potato chip shaped like Derek's head."

"Do you still have it?"

"In a petri dish."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

16 July, 2010

Carefully, Spencer tried to open the door from the garage to the house without dropping the bags precariously balanced in his arms. The tail end of Dizzy Gillespie's "Manteca" played through the speakers and he smiled in relief when the bags made it to the counter unscathed. Opening the first bag, he pulled out the takeout cartons and grabbed two sets of chopsticks from a drawer.

"Manteca" ended and "A Night in Tunisia" began while Spencer made his way through the house. He opened another door with his foot and waved a container of chicken tikka masala in welcome.

"You're such a good provider," Calliope whispered. "That's not all you ordered, is it?"

"Only if I had a death wish. There's more in the kitchen. How long have you two been in here?"

"Well… I fell asleep about two-ish and I didn't leave after I woke up," Calliope sat up and put one of the pastel pink pillows back on Emeline's bed. "I miss her."

"I miss her too. Let's get you out of this room," Spencer sat down next to her and rubbed Perses' back.

"I kind of like being in here," Calliope smiled a little, looking around the princess room. Perses yawned and rolled onto his back for Spencer to scratch his stomach. Spencer obliged the dog out of habit and looked around the room as well. It had been finished a few weeks ago. Everything was pretty and pastels, frills and sparkly things everywhere. A little girl's dream room. A room Emeline would love.

"Me too. You did a wonderful job."

"You helped."

"I just did what I was told," he laughed. Calliope smiled and leaned across the dog to kiss him.

"And you did it very well."

The next time the grandfather clock chimed in a new hour found the pair cuddled on the couch with empty cartons of Indian food scattered across the coffee table and _The Thomas Crown Affair_ played in the DVD player.

"When I as a little girl – like, _little_ little. Elementary school little. I had the biggest crush on Steve McQueen. I was convinced I was going to grow up and marry him. I was so crushed when I found out he was dead. Majour devastation."

"I have to compete with Steve McQueen?" Spencer joked, stretching his arm along the back of the couch. "Maybe I should just throw in the towel now."

"You probably should," Calliope agreed, "I mean, Steve McQueen is Steve McQueen. How does one surpass Steve McQueen?"

"By breathing?"

Calliope laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder.

_ "You're mad! Absolutely mad!"_

_ "What else can we do on a Sunday?"_

"Who was your childhood crush?"

"I didn't have one," Spencer shook his head.

"I don't believe that. Everyone has one. What? Are you embarrassed? Come on. It can't be that bad."

"Danica McKellar, okay?"

"Winnie Cooper? You had a crush on Winnie Cooper? That's so cute!" Calliope grinned, stretching her head to kiss him. "You would have had a crush on Winnie Cooper."

"And now I have a crush on you," Spencer teased, kissing her again.

"You are so corny. I love it. Spencer?"

"Hmm?"

"I have a crush on you too."

"Good. I already told everyone on the playground you were my girlfriend."

"You played on the playground?"

"I don't think so. I think I read during recess."

"Have I told you recently that you look good with this haircut?"

"Several times. Shorter is better, apparently."

"You have excellent cheekbones. It shows them off. And your eyelashes. I want your eyelashes. I wish mine were that long."

"This conversation is become far too effeminate."

Conversation lapsed once again into a comfortable silence while they focused on the movie. Calliope, who had seen the movie enough times to be able to quote most of it, closed her eyes and enjoyed the safety Spencer's embrace brought to her thoughts. She never got as long as she wanted with him, but had learned to enjoy every moment she was given.

"How's Derek doing?" She asked when the credits started rolling. "Is he still having trouble?"

"He's become very attached to Ellie Spicer and I'm not sure why this girl is different than other children we've seen orphaned," Spencer rested his cheek on her frizzy curls.

"He didn't promise the other orphaned children's parents that he would keep their children safe."

"True. I just have a feeling there's something more to it."

"There probably is," Calliope nodded and stretched. "There usually is to something like this."

"Time for bed?" Spencer asked as his sweetheart cuddled closer.

"Another movie, I think."

"Which one?" Spencer made to stand and exchange the DVDs.

"_The King and I_? I love Deborah Kerr." The television flicked back to the station it had been on when Spencer ejected _The Thomas Crown Affair_ and popped _The King and I_ out of its jewel case. "Wait. Don't put it in yet."

"What? Why?"

"I want to see what's on the news. This girl was on the news yesterday. She's still missing."

"Kate Joyce is still missing? This is the second day."

"You didn't see this on the news at work?"

"I was doing paperwork all day. I didn't pay attention to the news."

"It's like Natalie Holloway all over again," Calliope said, staring at the television and watching the perfectly coiffed blonde news anchor. "Except in Maryland instead of Aruba. What are the chances of finding her alive?"

"She's been missing for two days? Forty-three percent or so."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

17 July, 2010

Book in hand, Spencer sat in an overstuffed chair reading and listening to Calliope, Jill, Keely and Trisha go over last minute wedding details. The date had been moved back over a month to accommodate Eli and Isaac. They finished their time as drill instructors at Parris Island next week and left for the Middle East two weeks after that. Tonight, the three girls, their significant others, Ben and Brenda were going to dinner and Spencer just couldn't wait another minute to spend the evening in close quarters with Brenda.

He had read Gideon's book, _Running: A Memoir_, several times, but that didn't stop him from rereading it several times. He would rather reread the memoir ten times tonight if it meant he didn't have to go to dinner with Brenda. There were many, many things he'd rather do than go to dinner with Brenda. Many, many things.

It seemed that a miracle rivaling that of feeding five thousand with five loaves of bread and two small fish to change Brenda's opinion of him. He had come to terms with the fact that Brenda despised him, but that reconciliation didn't seem to help when Brenda sat ten feet from him saying awful things or pretending he didn't exist.

His phone was ringing. An annoyingly familiar ringtone, too.

"Reid," he answered. "Okay. I'm on my way."

Scant minutes passed before Spencer walked briskly out of the bedroom with a go-bag and his messenger bag in hand. None of the women took notice of him as he put his shoes on. They were far too engrossed in whatever it was spread across the kitchen table.

"Calliope? I have to go."

"Go where?" Calliope didn't look up. "Don't be too long. We have to leave for Williamsburg in an hour."

"I can't go to Williamsburg." The one silver lining to J.J.'s summoning.

"What?" That got Calliope's attention. "Why?"

"Work. We got called in to try and break the two boys Atlantic Beach P.D. have in custody. The Kate Joyce case."

"What about dinner?" Calliope stood and walked over to the bar.

"I can't go. I'm sorry, Sweetheart," Spencer poured coffee into a travel mug, gave her a quick kiss goodbye, turned and walked to the garage door. "I'm sorry. I have to go. I'll see you when I get home."

"Spencer, wait."

"Calliope, I have to go."

"Spencer, you need –"

"I have to go, Calliope. This is my job."

"But –"

"Sweetheart, you know how this job is."

"Spencer!"

"_What_, Calliope? I'm going to be late."

"You're about to leave without your badge or gun." Calliope opened a drawer, reached in and held out the items towards him, a cross, angry expression on her face.

Spencer closed his eyes and sighed, walking back towards her. He took the gun and badge from her hands, shoving the badge into his pocket and unbuckling his belt to slid the black leather through the loops on the gun holster, settling it on his hip before readjusting the buckle.

"Sweetheart –"

"Just go, Spencer," she told him coolly, scowling.

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart."

"Go, Spencer."

"I love you," he said gently, encasing her in his arms, leaning his head on the top of her head, her soft hair crinkling against his cheek. She didn't return the affection the way she usually did; her arms didn't snake around his waist and she didn't whisper _'I love you too, String Bean'_ the way she usually did, her lips didn't press against his throat or collarbone. She just stood there, unyielding. "I'm so sorry, Sweetheart."

"Go."

"I'll be home as soon as I can," he pressed a kiss to her forehead and cupped a hand along her jaw, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. Spencer tilted her head up slightly and leaned down, kissing her even as she stood unresponsive. "I love you, Calliope Sellers."

"Go, Spencer!" Calliope finally pulled out of his arms, pushed him away, and gave him a full-out glare. "Just go!"

Spencer dropped his go-bag to the ground and Perses yelped at the loud smacking sound and ran out of the kitchen, jumping onto the couch and barking. "No."

"What?"

"I'm not going to 'just go,' Calliope. I will never 'just go.'"

"You have to go to work."

"I'm not leaving," he told her, pulling out his badge and taking off the gun holster. "I'm not leaving like this."

"Like what, Spencer?" She spat, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"This. You angry with me because I've acted like a moron."

"You're not a moron, Spencer."

"Really? Because I think treating the woman you're in love with as if she's not worth your time in pretty moronic. There is absolutely nothing more important than you and, for the briefest moment, I forgot. But I can't forget, Calliope. Because the minute I forget and start putting things, this job, before you, we - you and I, this relationship – don't stand a chance. And without you there is no point.

"I love you, Calliope. More than anything in the world. I'm not going anywhere, Sweetheart. The team can go without me. You and I are more important." Spencer tossed his keys on the counter next to the gun and badge and kicked off his shoes without untying them, something he rarely did. He pulled the strap of his tan messenger bag over his head and carefully set it next to his go-bag.

"You have to go, Spencer," she said quietly.

"No, I don't. The team will understand if I take a personal day."

"It's your duty."

"Right now my only duty is to you and to Perses and to Emeline and this little dysfunctional family the four of us make." Spencer walked away from his things and pulled a packet of chicken breasts out of the fridge.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to make lunch. Then I'll take Perses on his walk. I'd like it if you came with us. I'll call Emeline to talk to her for a while. After that I'll probably read or watch a movie. Maybe I can get you to play a game of Scrabble with me."

"Spencer, stop being ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous."

"Yes, you are. You should be on ninety-five right now."

"Is it really ridiculous to put what's most important to you first?"

Calliopes eyes were wet as she sighed and circled the kitchen island to meet him where he stood in front of the subzero. She wrapped her arms around his slim waist and pushed up on her toes to kiss him. Spencer immediately dropped the chicken onto the counter and circled her shoulders, holding her tightly against him as he deepened the kiss.

"Go, Spencer. We can fight when you get back," Calliope cupped her hand to his cheek and smiled up at him sadly. "That girl needs you. I'll be here when you get home. I love you, Dr. Reid."

"I love you too, Sweetheart. I'm sorry."

"I know. Go. Be safe."

Spencer grabbed his things again and, with a last kiss, hurried to the door. Calliope wrapped her arms around herself and watched him leave. After the sound of his car had disappeared, she turned back to the table, causing the two brunettes and the blonde to jerk around like they hadn't been watching.

"Smooth, girls. Smooth. You'd be perfect for a stake-out. No one would ever suspect you."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. It's fine. Everything's fine."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The team had arrived almost thirty minutes ago, but J.J. and Hotch had spent the entire time locked in Hotch's office with Chief Strauss. Gut instinct told them that whatever was going on was not good. Anything in which Chief Strauss was involved was – ninety-nine percent of the time – not good. Especially when whatever it was brought Strauss in on a Saturday.

And his stomach was hurting. He'd put far too much milk in his coffee. He had Tums around here somewhere. If only he didn't like dairy so much. Especially cheese. He loved cheese. And he really needed some antacid about now.

"Ah, again with the dairy?" Prentiss groaned as Reid reached across the desk for the bottle of Tums.

"I can't help it. I love dairy."

"It's been, like, what? Twenty minutes?" García asked.

"And twenty more minutes, we're in the air," Morgan added, coming up behind them with a jacket slung over his shoulder.

"I don't think it's about the case," Prentiss sighed.

"Do you know something?"

"Do _I_ know something?"

"She just repeated the question. You always say that's a sign," García said to Morgan.

"_Do_ you know why J.J.'s in there?" Morgan asked.

"I have no idea."

"What is going on?"

"Maybe she asked for a raise," Reid joked. Prentiss just stared at him incredulously. Apparently, his tone lacked that obviously joking quality.

"Have his blinds ever been closed?" García looked worried and Prentiss made a face that indicated she wasn't sure and shrugged.

None of them liked this. Reid didn't like this, but it had managed to knock the guilt he felt for leaving Calliope the way he had right out of his mind. Good God, he shouldn't have had that milk. He did this every, single time.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope yawned as she pulled into the garage. She was exhausted. Dinner with her family had been more than slightly unpleasant. Correction – dinner with her mammy had been more than slightly unpleasant. Grandpa, the sisters, Steve and Trisha… they had been wonderful. Mammy, however, had been difficult.

She wanted some coffee. And Spencer. She really wanted Spencer right now. And chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer could hardly drive the red sedan that had replaced the Volvo when it finally died. His hands were shaking a little and he was having trouble focusing on the road in front of him. They were taking J.J. away. The Pentagon just took his best friend, his sister away despite the fact that no one wanted her to go. J.J. didn't want to leave, she made that explicitly clear, but she was being forced into the new position regardless. They just didn't care.

How were they, as a team, as a family… how were they supposed to function effectively without J.J.?

"Calliope?"

"I'm in the kitchen," Calliope called back, her voice a little muffled as she spoke. Spencer rounded the corner and saw her sitting at the table with Dove chocolate bar wrappers in a pile next to the seating charts she was fixing. "Can we finish our fight tomorrow? I really don't want to right now.

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse. Chocolate?"

"Please," Spencer took the she candy offered and sat next to her.

"Why the long face? I saw the news. Kate Joyce's okay."

"The Pentagon is taking J.J."

Calliope dropped the pen she held and some of the sticky notes marking where individuals would be sitting were dislodged. "What?"

"J.J.'s being forced to leave the BAU. After next week, she's going to be the liaison for the Department of Defense."

"They can't take J.J.!" Calliope protested loudly, forgetting the fact that Jill and Steve were asleep in their room across the house. "They can't just take her away! You need her! The team needs her. She's so important to the entire proce– to the team. She's part of this family and they can't just take her away, Spencer. The only reason this team works as well as it does is because of J.J."

"They've been told. They just don't care. J.J.'s good. She's the best and they want her, so they're going to take her."

"Isn't there anything Hotch or Chief Shit for Brains can do? Why can't J.J. just turn the job down? How can they make her leave?" Calliope kept babbling; she couldn't seem to stop the stream of words leaving her mouth.

"There's nothing Hotch can do and, even if there was something Strauss could do, she wouldn't. Hotch has tried. He can't fix this."

"This is bullshit, Spencer. This is just complete and utter bullshit. What about me? There's got to be something I can do. There has got to be someone I know. I know so many stupid people and I can't think straight right now. No! I know. Robertson. She so owes me. I can –"

"Not even you, your connections or your money can fix this, Sweetheart. Money and connections can't fix everything," Spencer shook his head and grabbed her hand to stop her.

"Let go. I have to go get my big, gigantic pink book. There's someone in there that can fix this. There has to be. Let go, Spencer."

"Money and connections can't fix anything," he said again, pulling her into his lap.

"You so obviously did not grow up in my world," Calliope sniffled, rubbing the back of her hand across her nose. "What is the point of having so much when you can do so little?"

* * *

**A/N:**

**The blip in the middle that everyone recognizes is oh-so-obviously from 6x02 "JJ," written by Erica Messer and directed by Charles S. Carroll, both of whom are brilliant. That episode was so, so sad and beautiful. The best possible send-off for J.J. As much as I hate their decision, and I know many of you will hate mine, I absolutely loved the way she was written out. It was perfect for her. And, I promise, J.J. has not left my fic, just the team.**

******OHMYGOD****OHMYGOD****OHMYGOD****OHMYGOD****OHMYGOD**!

**So. Two Fridays ago, I checked my e-mail and there was a message from ilovetvalot in my fanfiction inbox. Apparently, at least two crazy people nominated **_**Cracked Concrete **_**for "The Best Characterization of Derek Morgan" in the Profiler's Choice Criminal Minds 2010 Fanfic Awards. Hence, the "OHMYGODOHMYGOD" thing. I'm so CRAZY excited! I never thought anything I wrote would be nominated for anything. Ack! I can't wipe this goofy smile off my face! Ahhh! I need to find a way to contain my excitement. It's really not going well. I've been trying all week and I have yet to succeed in any way, shape or form. So, please, oh please, oh please, OH PLEEEEAAAASE read and vote for **_**Cracked Concrete**_**. (Yes, I was totally channeling Charlotte from Disney's _The Princess and the Frog_ right there). It's my pride and joy. I seriously love that story. The link to the rules and nomination ballot is on my profile.**

**The Reader's Digest version is you: ****1) have to have a valid fanfiction[dot]net account, ****2) vote through private messages to "Profiler's Choice CM Awards", ****3) ****copy the ballot and include ONLY your vote after each category, ****4) final votes must be received by November 30, 2010 at 11:59 PM EST and ****5) you may only vote once (1x) but you don't have to vote for every category.**

**So, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to whatever crazy people nominated this story because I love you like WHOAMYGOD. Also, being called crazy in my family is the highest honour. So that wasn't meant as mean. I love crazy people. I am a crazy people. But I think my A/Ns have already lead yall to that conclusion.**

**THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!**

**On a more somber note, actually, a much more sober note, today (23 October, 2010) marks exactly two years since my Daddy died. Well, technically, exactly two years since we found out my Daddy died. Two years ago it was a Thursday and I had just walked in to my now-ex boyfriend's apartment after my night class for creative writing. The first thing he said was "Thalia, we need to talk." I asked if we were breaking up (we'd been having a 'rough' patch) and now I wish more than anything that was what it was, especially since he then proceeded to cheat on me with two high school girls. Anyways. He said no and we sat down and he said, "Baby, your dad... Baby, your dad killed himself." I couldn't say anything. I don't know how long I was silent, but he continued talking. "He shot himself in your garage. Your Grampa called me. They didn't want you finding out alone." That was about when I flipped the fuck out. I started screaming that it wasn't effing funny and I know my dad's an ass, but that doesn't mean he should be making jokes like that because it was G**damned funny. If he wanted to make sick jokes like that, make them about his own dad, not mine. I think I swore and screamed more in that next ten minutes than everyone woman who went through labour that year combined. His nineteen year old daughter wasn't living for. His sixteen year old son wasn't worth it. His wife of nearly twenty-one years meant nothing. We weren't worth living for.**

**Daddy was a very sick man and I know that, but he was still my Daddy. At the time of his death, he had cut himself off from us as completely as possible while still living in the same house. The last time I spoke to him was 16 August of that year. The day I went to college. Daddy didn't go with me. Mum, LB and Aunt Numero Dos took me. I was trying to tell him that I loved him and that I would miss him, but I was starting to cry and he got mad at me because he couldn't understand what I was saying. I just wanted him to tell me that he loved me and I was crying because I knew he wouldn't. I can't remember the last time I heard him tell me that. It's been a long two years since then. It's been filled with a lot of tears, a lot of anger, and a lot of pain, but I'm finally starting to find my feet again. I'm starting to understand how much pain Daddy was in. His pain doesn't erase what he forced us to endure, but, in some ways, it's helped me to understand. Writing these stories about Spencer and Calliope have made me happy when I thought I'd never be happy again, writing _Cracked Concrete_, a story that in so many ways is partially my story, has been like therapy in helping me work through all the emotions of Daddy's life and death and yall, my readers and friends, have helped more than you will ever be able to know. I can't begin to tell you what a bright spot yall have been and I can't begin to thank you enough.**

**I don't know if Daddy's up there reading these or if he even cares, but, if he is, if he does, I hope he knows that I've forgiven him. I forgive him for leaving me and my brother and my mum. I forgive him for every horrible thing he's sad to me, for every time he didn't say 'I love you.' I forgive him for making me feel worthless. I forgive him for the times he hit me, for when he twisted my actions to make it so that I was purposefully doing something to hurt him. I forgive him for every concert he missed, for never watching me march, for never reading the stories I was so proud of, for never seeing LB play soccer. I don't forgive him for him. I've forgiven him for me. I've forgiven him because I can't hold on to the hate and the anger anymore. I can't hold on to that or I'll become just like him and I don't want to be like him. I want to remember the good times I had with him. I want to remember the hockey games and playing in the pool; I want to remember rollerblading and building things. I want to hold on to the good and not the bad. So I've forgiven him. It doesn't erase the past, but it makes it so I can move forward and tell him that I love him and I hope he's found peace.**

**Love, Thalia**


	43. Chapter 42

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_"I don't think I can live without you and I don't think I ever will." – Elvis Costello_

o o o o

12 July, 2010

Reid's cell phone rang again. It had been ringing incessantly for the past three minutes and Rossi raised his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry. I'll be right back." Reid said, walking towards the corner of the room they had set up in in the Belle Fourche Police Department.

"Reid, come on," Morgan said, staring at him. "Colin Matthews doesn't have much time left."

"She's called seven times in three minutes, Morgan. She's never done that. Something must be wrong." Reid flipped the phone open and held it to his ear. "Calliope? What's wrong? He what? Are you sure? No! No, take him to the vet right now, Calliope. No, don't wait to see if… Sweetheart, he's not big enough. It won't make it through the small intestine. Dr. Marlowe needs to get it out now before it blocks Perses' bowels and leads to intussusception. I know you don't know what that means. I'll tell you later. Just take Perses to the vet and get them to take the sock out. Yes. I know. Yes. It's on the fridge. The leash? In the pantry hooked onto the door. Yes, next to the… okay. I love you too. Text me with what Dr. Marlowe says. Alright. Bye."

"What's going on, Reid?" Prentiss asked, looking away from the white board she had been studying.

"Perses swallowed a sock and Calliope's loosing it," Reid tucked his smartphone into his pocket and picked up the folder he had been holding.

"Is he going to be okay?" Hotch asked, knowing how much Jack loved Calliope and Reid's dog.

"He'll be fine. I think. I hope. Calliope's taking him to the vet."

"Why?" Morgan looked up. "That dog's big enough. It'll come out in a week or so."

"And, if it doesn't, I'll come stay with you because I don't want to be around Calliope if that happens," Reid scoffed. "Better yet, I'll take your house and you can go stay in mine."

"Reid, I love Cal, but there is not enough money in the world to make me trade places with you," Morgan shook his head and laughed. "That woman is absolutely insane. And that grandmother? No thank you."

"Now that we all know why Morgan's single," Prentiss laughed.

"That Brenda Sellers is a real psycho," he defended himself. "Look at all the crap she pulls on Reid. I don't know if any girl's worth that."

"Hey!" Prentiss smacked him with a folder and Reid frowned.

"Calliope's worth it," he said and Morgan looked apologetic.

"I didn't mean that. Cal's worth it. She's great."

"Maybe Brenda will hit her head, get amnesia and forget she hates you," Rossi joked. "Okay. Sorry. That wasn't funny."

"That's terrible, Rossi," Prentiss shook her head.

"Focus," Hotch commanded. "We have an eight year old boy to find and less than twenty four hours to do it."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Jack-Jack, come back here," Calliope called as Jack strayed away from the car while she got Perses out of the car as well. "Jack, I am not kidding. Come back here. Jack Hotchner! Get your butt over here right now."

"But there's a cat, Aunt Callie!"

"Aunt Callie's allergic to cats, Jack. Please don't touch it. Now come back where I can see you, Baby. Jack!"

"I'm coming," Jack ran back pouting and stopped next to her.

"I swear to God, Perses, you are getting your sorry butt out of this car whether you want to or not!" Calliope gritted her teeth and pulled on Perses' purple leash. "You. Are. Getting. Out!"

Perses whined and dug his paws into the leather upholstery. Calliope dug her feet in as well and narrowed her eyes. Gripping the leash even tighter, she wrapped the cloth around her hands and pulled again on the now shortened leash. Perses whined even louder in response to being pulled.

"It's not gonna work, bucko!" Calliope announced while Jack watched with wide, skeptical eyes.

"Aunt Callie, he's too big."

"He's getting out of the car and into the vet if it's the last thing I do!" Perses barked. "Back 'atchya, you dumb dog!"

Suddenly, Perses jumped out of the car and Calliope fell backwards onto her back, letting go of the leash. Perses, seizing the opportunity, ran for it.

"Perses!" Both Jack and Calliope shouted the dog's name. Jack ran off immediately; Calliope pushed herself off the concrete and started running after both her boys, wobbling dangerously on her heels.

"Jack! Perses!" Calliope hurdled over the daffodils lining the walkway by the vet's building and grabbed Jack before he ran out into the street after Perses. "Don't you dare."

"But Perses! Aunt Callie, we have to get Perses!"

"We _will_ get Perses. But we won't get him by running blindly into the street where you could get hurt or be killed. Because if you get hurt or worse, your daddy's going to kill me. You're an only child; if something happens to you, the Hotchner line is kaput unless your Uncle Sean decides to procreate. And I'm the last Sellers young enough to have children, so if your daddy kills me, the Sellers family really is kaput. And, if that happens, all hell will break loose. So you can't run into the street or all hell will break loose. Got it?"

"Got it," Jack nodded despite the fact that he had no idea what she meant.

"Okay. Let's go," Calliope grabbed Jack's hand, after checking both ways, and they ran across the street yelling for the renegade dog. "Perses! Get your butt back here! Perses!"

"Perses, come back!" Jack hollered, waving his hands.

"Where'd he go?" Calliope gasped, searching.

"We lost him forever!" Jack's eyes watered.

"We didn't loose him forever, Jack-Jack. He's around here somewhere. He'll come home. We just have wave, uh… wave one of Uncle Spencer's sweaters around and he'll come running to swallow that too. Perses!"

"Loose something?" Calliope screamed and jumped at the deep voice that came up from being her. She whacked it with her purse before she really turned around and the voice groaned. "Jeeze, Callie. What, do you have bricks in there or something?"

"Oh my God! Dean, I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Oh, Dean, I am so, _so_ sorry!"

"I'll tell you when I'm sure my lungs weren't punctured by my ribs. What's in your purse?"

"Uh, _Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets_, my iPod, my iPhone, wallet, daybook, cinderblock, the keys to the invisible jet, the Lasso of Truth, slab of concrete, horses' head… You know. Normal stuff," Calliope told him. "I really should take that cinderblock out."

"You should leave the horses' head because, ya know, you never know when you'll need to slip it between someone's sheets and then use the invisible jet to get away and beg Bruce and Dick to make Alfred let you in."

"Exactly."

"And the slab of concrete is an absolutely necessity."

"I don't know how I'd live without it."

"So what were you looking for?"

"Oh my God, Perses! Perses ran away! Perses!"

"You lost your dog?"

"Perses knocked her on her butt," Jack giggled. Dean ruffled Jack's hair and smiled.

"Let's go find the dumb dog. C'mon Jack. You find the dog first and I'll show you how to change a tire."

"Perses!" Jack ran off yelling.

"You let him out of your sight and you'll wish I had a cinderblock in my purse," Calliope threatened him.

"Dully noted," Dean nodded. "Now, you go check that way and I'm going that way."

"Deal."

Calliope searched up and down Princess Anne Street while Dean and Jack took Caroline Street. That dog could give bin Laden a run for his money in hiding abilities.

"Perses! You dumb dog, show your butt!" Calliope shouted herself hoarse.

"Calliope?"

"Jeeze! What is it? Scare the Crap Out of Callie Day?" Calliope clutched her chest and turned around. "Hey, Frank. Oh my God! Perses!"

"I think this belongs to you," Frank, the old bartender from Capital Ale House, was bent over and holding Perses by the collar.

"Frank, you are a god! I'm putting up a statue of you! Fifty feet high, Frank. Fifty feet!" Calliope dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around the dog's neck as he panted and wagged his tail.

"Well, the dog's about as well loved around here as you are."

"About? Please, sometimes I think they'd rather have him than me," Calliope joked, scratching him behind the ears. "You are such a bad, bad boy! You nearly gave Mommy a coronary. You know that, don't you? You know how badly you scared Mommy and you're probably reveling in it right now. Yes, yes you are."

"Don't make me too fat in that statue, okay?"

"Slim you down. Got it. Thanks, Frank. So, so much."

"No problem, Kiddo. See you and Spencer this weekend."

"We eat there way too often."

"At least twice a week together. And then however often you come in for lunch."

"I really need to move to a new town."

"If you moved to a new one, you'd actually have to order when you sit down at a restaurant," Frank grinned.

"True," Calliope nodded, standing up with Perses' lease in hand. "And I _have_ gotten used to not ordering. It'd be a pain in the butt if I had to start all the work of training the people around me to cater to my every whim all over again. I mean, I have this lot trained so well."

"It would be quite the inconvenience."

"I'm glad we had this conversation. Dean! I have to find Dean! Thank you, Frank. I'll see you later. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Bye, Frank!" Calliope dug through her purse to find her phone, careful to keep a firm grip on the purple leash.

"Damn you, Lasso of Truth! Stop hiding my phone from me! Ha! You're good, but you're not that good, Lasso. Number… number… what's Dean's number… There we go. Ignore Mommy as she talks to herself, Perses. Good dog. Hey Dean. I got him. On Princess Anne. By the train station. We're right in front of Mo's. Okay. You're an angel, Dean."

Sighing, Calliope collapsed into one of the wrought iron chair outside Mocha Mo's. Perses, completely unaware that he was the cause of Calliope's physical and emotional exhaustion, plopped down at her feet and yawned.

"Hey Callie," A plump auburn haired woman came out with a large porcelain bowl cup with whipped cream and chocolate sauce towering over the edge of the cup.

"Hey, Tanna. How are yo – you brought me coffee. Just a sec, I have cash. Oh! Better. I have nine drinks on my Mo's punch card! That means this one's free. I love coffee. Especially when it's free coffee."

"Who doesn't? Want some pumpkin bread too?"

"And a cup of apple juice and a regular coffee too. Dean's coming with Jack. We had a runaway situation. Perses tried to make a run for it."

"Well, if I had his life, I'd try and run for it too," Tanna joked.

"Wouldn't we all?"

"Perses!" Jack shouted and ran up to them. Perses thumped his tail and let Jack throw himself at him. "You came back!"

"Apple juice, Jack?"

"Yes, please!"

"So, what's going on?" Dean asked as he sat down next to Calliope.

"Perses swallowed a sock. He ran away to escape the vet. Where I think my car door is still open. Shi-oooot. Shoot."

"I'm sure someone closed the door, Callie."

"I hope so. I don't want someone to steal Elphaba."

"That's the Porsche, right? Slyvia's the Astin Martin."

"I knew you'd get it eventually."

"Have you named Spencer's new car yet?"

"Nope. Poor thing's still nameless. She doesn't have the same personality as Bernard does."

"So she's female."

"I think so."

"Shouldn't you get him to the vet?" Dean asked, looking down at Jack happily drinking his apple juice and taking a big bite of pumpkin bread. Perses was staring longingly at the large slice of bread Jack held.

"My feet hurt," Calliope pouted. "You try running after a dog in four inch stilettos. I jumped over some of those yellow flowers. They're bulbs flowers, like tulips, but not tulips… Daffodils! I jumped over the daffodils by the vet's office and it's a miracle I actually landed on my feet rather than break my ankle. Just call me Kerri Strug."

"I don't think they make four inch heel things in my size."

"They're pretty."

"I guess," Dean said skeptically.

"Ugh. You're a boy. You don't understand shoes. Besides. Your feet are gross. Jimmy Choo would be wasted on you."

"They're silver."

"They're metallic."

"You're wearing tiny silvery shoes with a weird plaid skirt and a Pat Benatar shirt."

"A hero to many young girls forced into frilly white dresses while they just wanted to be a heartbreaker in the heat of the night. Live for love and not let it show. Alas, all the boys those girls met were pathetic. Even if they had hit the girls with their best shots, it would have sucked anyways."

"It's weird. And you're not making sense."

"You explain yours, bucko, and I'll explain mine."

"It's comfortable."

"It's pretty. And it goes with my purse."

"The Mary Poppins Purse of Death. And horse heads."

"I rescind my liking you. Our friendship is null and void, my ex-friend. As null and void as Lay and Skilling's friendship. That's how null and void our friendship is."

"Stop saying null and void. It's freaking me out."

"My feet hurt. And my left ankle's starting to twinge."

"You shouldn't have worn heels."

"Well, I wasn't anticipating transforming into Lolo Jones today or I would have worn my Nikes," Calliope snarked and bent down to rub her ankle. "Carry me back to the vet, Dean."

"I am not carrying you all the way back to the vet!" Dean scoffed.

"Please. Please, please, please."

"I don't think Bri would like that. Or Spencer, for that matter."

"They'll understand."

"I don't think so."

"Carry me back or I'll fire you," Calliope joked.

"You can't fire me. I don't work for you," Dean reminded her.

"Then I'll fire Bri. Now carry me back to the vet."

"You fire Bri and I'll call the tabloids and tell them what a terrible person you are. I'll divulge all the ridiculous, inane things you do. With pictures."

"No! Dean, no!" Calliope's horrified expression made Dean start laughing. "I like my life of anonymity. I've worked very hard to get that anonymity and I have no desire to ever see my face in a newspaper or magazine again. Please don't do that."

"Okay. Then stop asking me to carry you back," Dean was still snickering and sipping coffee while Jack shoved the last crumb of pumpkin bread into his mouth.

"You're so mean. What'd I ever do to you?"

"You used me as a ladder once. You stood on my shoulders and changed a light bulb."

"Well, I didn't know where Mark hid the ladder and Mark wasn't answering his cell phone. Besides! That doesn't count! You offered! If you initiate the action, you revoke your right to later complain about it," Calliope shoved herself up and winced. "Stupid beautiful shoes."

"Why don't you take them off?"

"And walk eight blocks barefoot? Dean, where were you raised? A barn?"

"Arlington. Which, apparently, is a barn compared to Dahlia. C'mon," Dean squatted down and rolled his eyes.

"Ha! I love you, Dean!" Calliope jumped on his back and held on while he stood up.

"Just don't say that too loudly," he joked. "Give me the dog's leash. You hold it from up there and you're going to choke him before we even get to the vet."

"Let's go, Jack. You're my hero, Dean Gutherie. Right after Pat Benatar, Amelia Bloomer and Jimmy Choo. And Wonder Woman. And Peter Jackson. And Ben and Jerry! And Gregory Maguire. And Joanne Rowling. And Eli Whitney! And Lucretia Mott! And Anne Frank! And…"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Hotch stood up on a stage behind the podium and spoke seriously into the microphones secured to the wood. It was strange seeing Hotch standing were J.J. should standing and delivering the words J.J. should be delivering. Colin Matthews was the first child abduction case they'd been called out to since the Pentagon's unceremonious theft of J.J. and everything felt a more than a little strange.

Several times, one or more of them had turned to ask something of J.J. only to find a horrible lack of J.J. They didn't quite know how to do this without J.J. Reid stood next to Prentiss and watched Hotch, who had given press conferences of this nature to the media several times over the course of his career in the Bureau, flounder ever so slightly.

He looked at the poster of Colin resting on the tripod behind his parents, thankful that it was Colin's face plastered on the poster board instead of Emeline or Jack or Henry or Emeline. He missed his daughter. He hadn't spoken to her since they flew out on this case and he missed her.

"Reid," Morgan gently jabbed him in the side and tilted his head, indicating for Reid to follow him. When they were a significant distance away from the press and anyone who could possibly hear them, Morgan continued. "They found a body in the dumpster behind the elementary school."

"The elementary school?" Reid asked incredulously. "I.D.'d?"

"Not for sure. C'mon. The police are waiting for us."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope had a hard time focusing on the adventures of Hogwart's most famous trio as she read to Jack sitting on uncomfortable plastic chairs in the vet's waiting room while Perses had the sock removed from his stomach. Dr. Marlowe had said the sock would probably work its way through Perses' digestive system within a week, but Calliope's refusal to accept 'probably' as a satisfactory answer led him to propose surgery to get the sock out today.

"'But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't–" began Dean Thomas, but Professor Binns had had enough. 'That will do,' he said sharly. 'It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to _history_, to solid, believable, verifiable _fact_!'"

"You're not doing the voices anymore," Jack reminded her.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I'll do better," Calliope kissed Jack's head and took a sip of the terrible coffee she'd gotten from the coffee maker sitting in the corner of the waiting room. Wrinkling her nose, she forced the coffee down and refocused. She could always _not_ drink the coffee, but that option never really crossed her mind. Coffee was necessary to living.

"Ms. Sellers?"

"Dr. Marlowe?" Calliope jumped up, nearly knocking her coffee over. "Is he okay?"

"Perses is going to be fine. He's waking up right now. Now, he's going to be drowsy and probably standoffish for the rest of the night and maybe a bit tomorrow morning, but don't worry about that. It's just because of the sedatives. He's all stitched up, but you're going to need to keep an eye on him for a while to make sure he doesn't go after his stitches until he's all healed up."

"When can we take him home?"

"In an hour or so. He'll be home in time for after dinner schnapps."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

13 July, 2010

Spencer finally stumbled into his house several hours after dark. It was far, far past midnight, so far past that the first rays of light from the rising sun were beginning to show. Spencer was barely awake as he kicked off his shoes and dropped both his bag and his coat on the floor haphazardly and kept fumbling his way to the bedroom. He hadn't slept in over forty-eight hours, no one on the team had. They'd been up since Thursday trying to find a kidnapped eight year old before the three day deadline the unsub had given.

The boy had been murdered.

They had failed.

John Coltrane played softly through the speakers and Spencer was, for once, rather annoyed that Calliope hated a silent house, even when she slept. He didn't want to listen to music or anything that could be remotely construed as happy. Though, Coltrane was generally considered a depressing jazz rather than Calliope's personal favourite Count Basie, who was much more lively. But music was happy, regardless of the emotional tone, and therefore not what he wanted at the moment.

All Spencer wanted was to crawl into bed, hold his girlfriend so tightly she couldn't breath, sleep for several days with his face buried in her hair and try to forget Colin Matthews had ever existed in the first place. Spencer felt his way into the bedroom with his eyes closed and attempted to close the door behind him without waking the redhead asleep in the bed. Shrugging his cloths onto the floor and not bothering to pick them up, he climbed under the covers in his boxers.

Rolling over and searching, he found Calliope curled up on her side facing away from him. Spencer physically relaxed and molded himself against her, kissing her hair and wrapping his arm around her waist. Having her in his arms, being able to feel her against him was immeasurably comforting. The world was right again.

"Welcome home," she whispered lethargically, covering his hand with hers.

"It's good to be home," he whispered back. "I missed you."

"Miss you too. I'm sorry about Colin."

Spencer didn't respond, just held her closer. "So, why is Perses sleeping on the floor?"

"Stitches. He's not allowed to jump and I can't get him on the bed. He's too big for me to lift anymore, so I laid on the floor with him until he fell asleep and then I got into bed so he wouldn't try and jump up after me."

"He's going to be okay?"

"Physically, he'll be great. Mentally? Well, maybe Lindsay can share her rehab with him."

"She's back in rehab?"

"Eh. If she's not now, she will be soon."

"Good point," Spencer nodded.

"Jack?"

"Aaron will be here tomorrow morning, technically this morning, to pick him up. He didn't want to wake him up."

"Good thinking, good thinking…" Calliope nodded, turning around and snuggling into his chest. "Sleeping again. Nighty night, Handsome. Love you."

"I love you too."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

16 July, 2010

"No! That is absolutely _not_ okay!" Calliope said into the phone, verging dangerously on the edge of yelling. "The wedding is on Sunday! It's noon on Friday right now. Do you understand that? It's in less than two days. It is absolutely not acceptable for you to deliver the bridesmaids dresses on Saturday night!"

Spencer took a bite of his sandwich and tried desperately hard not to start laughing. Almost two years and he had been witness to several of these conversations. Maybe not specifically about bridesmaids dresses, but he never really paid attention to the specific topic.

"No. I guaranty you that, if they aren't delivered by three o'clock this afternoon, your company will severely regret it. Ah, yes. Thank you. It was a real treat," Calliope ended the call and dropped her head into her hands.

"You going to get soup in your hair," Spencer pointed out.

"They do this on purpose," she moaned. "These companies whose services I employ… they all have this massive conference to decide upon the best possible plan of action that will eventually result in the insanity of one Calliope Sellers."

"They do it well."

"So far today I have spoken to the florist, the linen company, our catering staff, the boys setting up the chairs, three couples who have yet to RSVP even though I clearly had the by date printed on the invitation _and_ had Linda call every single person to explain and apologize for moving the date back, and the people who possess the bridesmaids dresses. Did I mention I have someone who is supposed to do all this for me? I'm not supposed to have to deal with these details. Gah!" Calliope tossed her phone back into her bag and took a gulp of coffee that emptied half her mug in one go.

Spencer smiled and took another bite. He'd also been part of this rant as well. Different topic, same essence.

"Linda would do all this is you let her do all this."

"I let Linda do this and the bridesmaids dresses will be delivered less than twenty-four hours before we're supposed to be wearing them."

"You could fire or demote Linda and find someone who can do the job the way you want it done."

"My soup's cold."

"You've been on the phone for thirty minutes. The soup doesn't have a warming setting."

"You're being mean to me."

"I am not," he shook his head. "I do however have to go back to work."

"No! No! I can't have been on the phone your entire lunch break," Calliope grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch. "Oh no! No, I was on the phone your entire lunch break. We were supposed to have lunch together and I spent the entire time trying to get these stupid dresses from New York. And this is the only block of time I have until Keelz and Trish fling garters and bouquets. I'm so sorry, String Bean."

"It's fine, Sweetheart. We've been here before."

"I recognize that tree."

"See you tonight."

"I'll be the bald girl neurotically rocking back and forth in the corner mumbling about dresses, flowers and seating arrangements," Calliope smiled weakly and kissed him when he bent down.

"I'll be on the look out," he teased, kissing her again. Groaning, he stood up and pulled his phone from his pocket. "I'm on my way back, García, you didn't have to call. What? No, García. No. Great. Okay. Bye."

"No! No, no, no, no, no!" Calliope started protested the second he turned to her with the 'I'm really, really, really, really sorry' face she'd come to associate with him being called away on a case. "Spencer, don't you dare. No, no, no!"

"Calliope, I'm sorry."

"No, no, no! No way, Spencer Reid. Don't you even think about it. This is my sister's wedding, Spencer. It's her wedding!"

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I'm really, really sorry."

"Spencer, it's their _wedding_!"

"Well, I asked for the original date off and they gave it to me, but Strauss wouldn't okay this date. Not on top of our trip to Emeline," Spencer explained remorsefully. "I tried, Calliope. I really tried."

"Two girls, Spencer. In fluffy white dresses. Walking down the isle and promising to always make sure the other one always has clean underwear and the Poptarts they like and… and emery boards. And Mammy. Oh my God, Spencer, you have to be there. You absolutely have to be there."

"I will do every single thing I can to be back here," Spencer promised, his intestines twisting violently at the thought of Brenda with the ammunition of him missing this wedding.

"Now I have to add 'plan Spencer's funeral' to my to do list," Calliope dropped her head back into her hands. "Burial or cremation?"

"Surprise me."

"No! No more surprises this weekend. Spencer, you cannot miss this wedding. You miss this wedding and the next event I plan will be your funeral, followed directly by my own. And I really don't want to die any time soon."

"Calliope, please, I'm really, really sorry."

"Just go, Spencer. I'll bring your suit to Dahlia just in case. I'll figure it out."

"I'm sorry. I'll do everything I can to be there."

"I know. I'll deal with it. I'm the Michael Phelps of curveballs. 'Cept I hold _way_ more gold medals than he does. I mean, if I can break Illicia the Imbecile and get our dresses, I can deal with this one. I love you."

"I love you too. Don't take the suit to Dahlia," Spencer told her, fishing out his ringing phone.

"What? Why?"

"Send it to Quantico and give it to García. Then I can have it when I get back and I'll arrive in the suit."

"It'll be completely wrinkled from three hours in the car."

"Wrinkled or work clothes?"

"Wrinkled, I guess. At least hang the jacket up in the back and put it on when you get there," Calliope kissed him again and stood up.

"You haven't finished your lunch."

"Eh, I'll hit a drive-thru and eat something on the way home. The soup's stone cold anyways," Calliope bent down and grabbed her purse, gave him a kiss and shoved him in the direction of the FBI Academy. "Be safe. Actually, show up with a cast. It'll be a good temporary distraction. It'll buy us at least two minutes."

"Bust my knee again. Got it. Bye, Britney."

"Later, Kennedy."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid sat restlessly in the jet, fidgeting with everything and anything. He couldn't stay still. Every second his intestines twisted even more violently and he felt dangerously close to being ill. And this time lactose intolerance had absolutely nothing to do with it.

"So, how close to dead are you?" Prentiss whispered as Morgan and Rossi argued.

"I check for cross-hairs every few seconds. You?"

"Well, not good, but I'm not anticipating any cross-hairs anytime soon."

"You don't have the grandmother from hell monitoring your every move."

"Eli's parents are much more understanding than Brenda," Prentiss conceded.

"I feel nauseated," Reid sighed.

"I'd be worried if you didn't. So… what's the chance that we'll make it back in time for the wedding and not stand up our dates?"

"I don't want to think about it."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

18 July, 2010

Calliope shimmied into the steel blue dress and turned to allow Angela to zip her up. Spencer wasn't here. Spencer was still not here and Calliope felt unbelievably sick to her stomach. She held her hair up while Angela latched the simple sapphire necklace around her neck.

"Are you ready for your makeup, Ms. Sellers?"

"Yeah. Make me beautiful."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Go, go, go!" Emily and Spencer basically jumped out of the jet the minute the stairs were lowered and ran towards Spencer's car. "This is no time for your spastic run, Reid. Go!"

"My foot fell asleep!" Spencer hobbled awkwardly behind Emily while Morgan laughed so hard that he only stood upright because he held the stair's railing for support.

"García's got the cloths! Hurry!" Emily grabbed two dress bags from Penelope and jerked on the door handle. "Reid! Open the car, damnit!"

"I'm working on it! It's open."

"Let's go!" Emily threw herself into the backseat and slammed the door after her.

"Why are you in the back?" Spencer asked as he jumped in the front and rammed the key into the ignition. He jammed the gearshift into drive and hit the gas while simultaneously shoving the emergency break down.

"I'm changing, Reid. Get with the picture, kid. We have no time for stopping," Emily jerked off her red shirt and Spencer carefully kept his eyes forward as he peeled out of the parking lot. A sharp turn and Emily fell off the bench and hit the floorboard. "Watch it, Reid."

"You better be dressed when we go through the security checkpoint getting off the base," Reid told her.

"We'll get through faster if I give the Marines a show," she joked.

"I'd rather not take that chance."

"I'll be dressed. Just don't turn around. I'm taking my pants off."

"Thanks for the warning."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope walked down the isle after Trisha's cousin and before Trisha's sister as a sedate pace, trying not to wince obviously as her left ankle twinged. Maybe she should have gone to the doctor like Jill suggested. And these shoes? Who in the world picked these shoes? Stupid, spindly shoes with zero support that made her angry left ankle even angrier.

Stopping at the top of the isle, Calliope kept a smile on her face while Jill stopped in her place next to her. The music changed, Trisha appeared and everyone stood.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Reid, what are you doing?"

"We need gas and I have to change."

"I'll drive, you change. We can't stop driving, Reid."

"I can't change in the back seat of a car. I missed that class in high school, Prentiss," Spencer pulled off into gas station parking lot. "You fill the tank, I'll change."

"Hurry!"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope smiled and clapped as Jill finished her maid-of-honour speech. She tried to ignore the empty seat next to her as she sipped her champaign. Spencer wasn't there, but she hadn't held out much hope.

"I want booze," Jill whispered under her breath while Trisha's sister stood to give her own maid-of-honour speech.

"I doubt little baby what's-it would appreciate you dousing it with alcohol. Drink your sparkling cider, smile and pretend it's a sidecar," Calliope muttered out of the corner of her mouth without removing the smile plastered on her face or even moving her teeth.

"You got mean."

"You got pregnant."

"Can I exchange it for that sidecar?"

"I'd really love to see you try," Calliope sipped her champaign again and clapped after the woman finished speaking. On cue, servers appeared with plates and guests started exclaiming over Halina's latest culinary masterpiece.

"So what exactly did you have to do to make sure my parents didn't show up?" Jill asked normally once a plate of fancy chicken was in front of her.

"Well, I bribed Nanette Stevenson into moving her luncheon to today instead of yesterday, paid for the changes and gave her an entire box at the American Ballet Theatre for opening night for the next two seasons. We both knew which one Frank and Meredith would choose to attend."

"You're brilliant."

"I know."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Emily and Spencer ran up the marble stairs to Dahlia's front door, Emily cursing her heels ever few steps.

"I.D. please?"

"Reid and Prentiss," Spencer said, trying to catch his breath. "Where's Martin? Martin knows me."

"Martin is –" the young man looked slightly terrified and then relieved when Martin materialized.

"Go!" Martin shooed the exhausted pair in. "I told you to let them in."

"How dead am I?" Spencer asked as they rushed through the door.

"She ordered your headstone."

"Great."

"Less talk, more run," Emily gasped.

"Charlotte's Ballroom!"

"Thanks, Martin!"

"Stop!" Spencer skidded to a halt and grabbed Emily before she could run into the ballroom. "If I've learned only one thing dating Calliope, it would be never, ever barge in anywhere in this building."

"But –"

"Catch your breath. If we look like we've been running, it just makes it worse. Besides, this is the wrong entrance."

"We have been running. And what do you mean? This is the right room."

"That's not the point," Spencer shook his head, straightened his jacket and grasped her elbow, dragging her around to a much smaller door that servers were bustling in and out of. "Okay. Ready?"

"Why are we going through the servants entrance?"

"It's less noticeable that we're late this way."

"I guess that makes sense. Let's go."

"Dress."

"What?"

"Fix your dress."

"Oh. Right." Emily tugged her dress out and looked back up at Spencer. "Can we go in now?"

Spencer went in first and was relieved to see that dinner had been finished and people were up dancing. Emily gave a little wave and went off to where she saw Eli getting a drink at the bar. Spencer took a little while to find Calliope before spotting her dancing with a man about their age. He knew the face she was making. It was a cross between 'Good God, man. Put on deodorant!' and 'If I have to be around you much longer, I'm flinging myself out a window.' and 'I'm trying really hard to pretend I'm not making the two previous faces.'

He nodded at Ben when he passed, but kept walking towards Calliope and her dance partner. Tapping the man on the shoulder, he smiled, "Mind if I cut in?"

Awkwardly, the man let go of Calliope's hand and shuffled away while Spencer tried not to mimic Calliope's deodorant face. Smiling happily, and partially out of pure relief, Calliope took Spencer's hand and they started dancing.

"I'm so getting you a knight outfit for your birthday. And a white horse."

"What about Adella?"

"She's not white. You really need a white horse the next time you do that."

"How much trouble am I in with Brenda?"

"Above Stalin, under Hitler."

"And you?"

"You saved me from Mammy's set up just before I suffocated. We'll call it a wash."

"Am I allowed to kiss you?"

"I encourage it," Calliope smiled and kissed him.

"You look beautiful."

"I look like a sardine."

"A very beautiful sardine."

"Do yourself a favour and go tell Jill she looks like a very beautiful whale."

"If you want me dead, just leave me alone with Brenda. The hormonal pregnant woman living with us need not be antagonized to achieve that result."

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Brenda's coming up behind me isn't she?"

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. I really, really love you."

"Hello, Ms. Sellers," Spencer forced a smile on his face when he turned around.

* * *

**A/N:**

******So, I went home last weekend to see LB and BB#2, BB#3, and BB#4 play football against my least favourite school in our district. Their mascot is a mustang, but I call them the ponies. I hate them. It was SUCH a great game. We DESTROYED them. DESTORYED THEM. Dead. It was 52-0 at halftime. HALFTIME. The first string sat out the ENTIRE second half and I got to watch my boys play. LB kicked three FGs and a kick-off. It was amazing. Ohhhh AND he kicked the school record setting FG too! The previous record for most points in one game was 65 and it's now 66. And LB kicked that field goal! I'm so ridiculously proud. I got pics of the four of them. Oh man. It was the best day in a long time for the Gratiae family. I just really wish Grampa had been around to see it. He would have loved watching LB and his Bonus Grandboys out there. I bet he was up in Heaven with Grama shouting and cheering like a crazy man. It was amazing. Crazy, crazy amazing. I couldn't talk right for days.**

******My sleep pattern totally sucks right now. Just sharing. I really want it to go back to normal soon or I'll be sleeping all day and up all night. Wow. I totally can't think of anything else to say right now. I love Whole Grain Goldfish. That's something I could say. Um... I got a bunch of new CDs relatively recently - Kenny Chesney, Darius Rucker, Taylor Swift, Tim McGraw, a Ray Charles CD I didn't have... Darius Rucker's CD is excellent. I love it. Taylor Swift's CD is great. It's a lot less country feeling than her previous records. It's a lot more pop-ish. Eh, that made sense in my head. It's still a good CD, country feeling or not. Ohhh and The Band Perry's first CD. It's fantastic. It definitely doesn't sound like a first album. Love it. Um... really sad that I'm not going h****ome for Halloween, but I went home last weekend for the big game and I'm going home next weekend for the REALLY big game, so I couldn't afford to go home for Halloween. LB went to a party as one of the aliens from Toy Story. I have never been prouder. Um... Okay. I'm officially out. My life is boring. So how are yall? I'm starved for entertainment.**

**Oh, and I'm sorry about the, uh, well... yeah. I toyed with the idea of putting glossary for all the references in this author's note, but then decided against it. I didn't mean for so many to make it in, it just kind of happened while I was writing and when I was reading the final product I bowled myself over with the amount. Again, I apologize. To Wikipedia! Or message me and I'll explain.**

**Thanks so much for reading! Please, tell me what you think - good or bad! Happy Halloween!**

**Love, Thalia**

**P.S. Can you believe we're at over 210,000 words? That doesn't even count all the one-shots! Jeeze Louise, I need a new hobby.**


	44. Chapter 43

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_If thou must love me, let it be for nought except for love's sake only. Do not say, "I love her for her smile—her look—her way of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought that falls in well with mine, and certes brought a sense of pleasant ease on such a day"—for these things in themselves, Belovèd, may be changed, or change for thee—and love, so wrought, may be unwrought so. Neither love me for thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry: A creature might forget to weep, who bore thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby! But love me for love's sake, that evermore thou mayst love on, through love's eternity." – Elizabeth Barrett Browning_

o o o o

22 August, 2010

"Have I told you that I love you so, so much?" Calliope whispered, threading her fingers through Spencer's and raising her other hand to hold his arm by his elbow. She pressed a kiss to his upper arm through his sleeve and closed her eyes. "And that I'm so, so sorry?"

Spencer just nodded and kissed the top of her head.

"We don't have to go in," she continued, both looking up at the white plantation home rising high into the sky. "I don't think anyone's seen us. We could get back in the car and run away. We could say no one answered the door and we had no choice but to leave."

"What happened to your key?"

"I think a wizard put a shrinking charm on the key and it just kept shrinking until it poofed away into nothingness. I'll have to get Arthur Weasley on that one. He's supposed to be on top of magically tampered with Muggle items."

"And your cell phone?"

"Well, I'll be damned if it didn't fall down, down, down into little Timmy's well. So far down I didn't even hear a splash. Hopefully it didn't knock Timmy on the head. Last I checked, he was still treading water. We should really send someone to get poor Timmy out."

Spencer nodded again, absently fiddling with the button on the cuff of his left sleeve. Calliope leaned her head against his arm and sighed.

"And your cell phone. Well, if you think my phones demise was unexpected, yours was just wow. Wouldn't you know it, those friendly forest critters I yodel to every morning so they'll come clean the house and, ya know, make sure I have a towel when I get out of the shower, they mistook your phone for… they mistook it for… they stole it. That damn deer was just mesmerized by the blinking light that's almost always going off because you never tell the phone that you've listened to the voicemails even after you listen to them. Bye, bye phone. I tried to chase the deer down, but he was just too fast. Shucks."

Spencer snorted and shook his head.

"Perses' stitches opened and we had to rush him to the doggie hospital," Calliope suggested.

"Perses had his stitches taken out two weeks ago," Spencer reminded her.

"Yeah, but I don't think I told Mammy that."

"I'd rather not out-right lie to Brenda."

"Probably wouldn't be a good idea, huh?"

"Probably not."

"I don't remember it being so big."

"Pardon?"

"The house," Calliope gestured. "I don't remember the house being so big and threatening. So many rules and expectations. I'm never going to live up to them. Not if I live a hundred lives."

Kissing the top of her head, Spencer pulled his hand from hers and wrapped both arms around her shoulders. She rarely spoke about these fears, but he knew they lay hiding behind her rebellious hair and bohemian, hippie-esque clothing style. Spencer kissed her, hugging tightly.

"Marry me, Spencer," she whispered against his neck. "C'mon… Lets just get married. We… we can run away to Italy and spend the rest of our lives gallivanting around Europe and Asia and Africa and… and Russia and-and-and we'll just never come back here. Ever again. I have the funds. It's possible. I can avoid Mammy's phone calls for the rest of my life. We'll pull a Brangelina – adopt children from all over and form a traveling circus. Shirk all responsibilities except for our kids. I know Brad and Angie aren't getting married, but I think Eme would like it. And I want a ring. Lets get married, Spencer. I don't care what Mammy says or does. I want to marry you."

Spencer was lucky he was holding onto her or he knew for sure his legs would have crumpled beneath him. She wasn't serious, was she? She couldn't be serious. There was no way she was serious.

"Spencer?"

"We have to go in, Sweetheart," he said lamely.

Calliope buried her face in his chest and cuddled closer. Breathing deeply, Spencer tried to steady himself. His mind raced too fast for anyone to keep up with. He had no idea what he was thinking; his thoughts refused to slow down long enough to allow him to decipher.

She had just asked him to marry her.

She couldn't ask him! _He_ was supposed to ask _her_. He had a plan. He had a ring, well, technically, he had two rings, he wouldn't in a few hours when he figured out how to give Ben the insane Sellers family ring back, then he would only have one ring, but that really wasn't the point. The point was _she_ was not supposed to ask _him_. He was supposed to do the asking. He had a plan! And it was a good plan, too! It was a really good plan.

"I guess we should go inside," Calliope said, jerking him from his thoughts.

"That would probably be a good idea," he agreed, letting go of her shoulders and holding her hand again.

"I don't want to go inside," she whispered, looking up at the house again.

"Neither do I," Spencer squeezed her hand. "I love you."

"I love you too. Okay. I think I'm ready now."

"Good. Unfortunately, I'm no longer ready."

"Dysfunctional, party of two, your table's ready."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer and Ben stood on the unnaturally green grass, both leaning on the paddock's white fence while they watched Charlotte doting over protectively while her two-week-old foal explore the outdoors for the first time. The gangly, little creature never strayed too far away from its' mother even while it pranced around awkwardly on its spindly legs.

"We almost lost the little thing, but he pulled through," Ben noted while the copper coloured foal turned back to make sure Charlotte was still close by. "I don't know if he'll ever race. We'll have to see how he progresses these next few weeks before we decide whether to sell him or train him. We'll see. Sometimes the most prolific champions come from the most unlikely of sources."

"Calliope's been worried about Charlotte her entire pregnancy."

"I was too," Ben admitted. "She's a good girl. It's time to give her a break."

"What are you going to do with Charlotte now that she's not breeding?" Spencer tentatively reached up to stroke the horses' cheek when Charlotte nudged her large head against his shoulder.

"Sometimes we sell them, sometimes we keep them as riders for guests, but this old girl, I think we'll keep for ourselves. I'm afraid I'm a bit fond of her."

"Ben… I, uh, I need to give you this back," Spencer said awkwardly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the black, velvet jewelry box.

"The ring?" Ben asked, taking the box. "Did something happen?"

"What? Oh, no. Nothing happened, I just… I found a different ring for her. It's, uh, it's from nineteen twenty. Platinum, art deco. It's smaller than this one, but I, well, I think it's the right ring for Calliope. Please don't take this the wrong way. I really appreciate the chance to give her that ring, but this one just feels right," Spencer expelled his explanation in one rushed breath and waited apprehensively for Ben's response.

Nodding, Ben tucked the jewelry box into his pocket and continued watching the horses. Spencer kept waiting for him to say something, anything, but Ben remained quiet which only increased Spencer's anxiety. Worried that he had just majorly messed up, he bit his lip.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Ben laughed.

"Being disrespectful of your–"

"Please, Spencer," Ben interrupted, "never apologize to me for being exactly who I've always hoped Callie would wind up with."

"What?"

"You know what's best for Calliope and you aren't afraid to do what's best regardless of anyone's reaction. That's an admirable quality, Spencer, not one to apologize for."

Spencer nodded slowly. He looked down at his hands and thought about what Ben said. Ben simply smiled.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope checked quickly to make sure no one was looking before she pulled an old key from her pocket, turned the lock and ducked into the room, closing and locking the door behind her. The room was damp and dusty, just as she expected it to be. She was the only one with a key to this room. There had been more keys at one point, but she'd systematically stolen all of them until she had the only remaining key.

It was a magic key in so many ways. It opened four doors on the third floor of the beautiful plantation home she'd grown up in and, behind those doors, it was the second day of December in nineteen eighty-two. Closing her eyes, Calliope leaned against the solid oak door and let herself fall back in time almost twenty-eight years.

When she finally opened her eyes again, she looked around the dusty bedroom, easily the biggest bedroom in the entire house. The large king sized bed was unmade and clothes still sat in the hamper, unwashed after thirty years. A large dog bed, once used by an old German Shepherd named Doc who had long since gone to doggie heaven, lay in it's place against the wall with a half chewed rawhide bone waiting inside. An ancient computer that Calliope probably wouldn't be able to figure out how to turn sat on at a beautifully carved desk overlooking the best view of Dahlia.

The view was so unobstructed that she could see the racing tracks, the small acre of cotton they kept for when schools requested field trips or tourists of Colonial Williamsburg wanted to see a 'working plantation,' not understanding the fact that most of the Sellers' income came from the horses, the businesses they owned or partially owned, the real estate and stock, material properties, the private hospitals, not to mention Dahlia itself. That wasn't as romantic and quaint and southern as picking cotton.

Walking away from the door, Calliope dropped the key on a nightstand next to a pair of glasses and climbed onto the raised bed. She snuggled under the silky comforter and pulled one of the pillows towards her. Inhaling deeply, she ignored the dusty smell and focused on the faint cologne that still clung to the fabric after all this time.

"I'm happy," she told the room. "I am. You'd have liked him. Well, I think you would have liked him. I like him and Grandpa likes him. Mammy doesn't, but I really think she would if she gave him half a chance. He's the only person in the world I haven't had to explain my name to. Thanks for that, by the way."

Calliope fell silent again and inhaled another whiff of the dusty cologne.

"There are some times I really wished you were here."

Holding the pillow closer, she closed her eyes again and allowed herself to relax. And there's where she fell asleep. Curled up in her parents' bed, clutching the pillow that still smelt faintly like her father.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

27 August, 2010

Spencer opened the safe deposit box and pulled both burgundy velvet boxes from within. He opened the first one to see the two wedding bands that would fit on either side of the engagement ring and put the box down in favour of the other. Snapping the second box open, he took out the engagement ring and looked at it again.

It was as beautiful as he remembered it and, seeing it again, he smiled. He had been right to pick this set over the one Ben had offered. Calliope would have loved the family ring because she was supposed to, not because it was her taste or because she would have picked it out. This ring, with it's subtle architecture and beauty, was a ring Calliope would have stopped over and fallen in love with within seconds.

Spencer's smile faded after a few seconds and he bit the inside of his mouth anxiously. Maybe he should wait. If he proposed tomorrow like he'd planned, she might think he was only proposing because of what she said last Sunday. Did she even mean that? Neither one of them had said anything about it since it happened. It was never brought up again.

Did she even truly want to get married?

He wanted to marry her. More than he wanted anything else, he wanted to marry Calliope.

Sighing, he looked down at the ring again. It really was the perfect ring. But was it perfect for right now? Was the timing right? Maybe he should wait.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

28 August, 2010

Calliope pulled her hair up and secured it in place with an army of bobby pins. She dropped one of her hands down to touch the beautiful pendant pinned to her dress. She'd found the wrapped box above the button on the coffee machine when she'd stumbled out of bed that morning. At first, she'd just moved the box out of the way so she could get her coffee while Spencer watched from where sat at the kitchen table. It took about an hour or so before she remembered and went back to find the box; all the while, Spencer watched and waited.

_"What's this?" Calliope asked, holding up the wrapped box. Spencer shrugged. Rolling her eyes, Calliope slid a fingernail under the tape and pulled on the shining silver wrapping paper. She opened the box and pulled away the tissue paper obscuring the box. "Oh Spencer…"_

_ Spencer stood up and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her towards him until her back pressed snuggly against his chest. He kissed her cheek and watched her trace her fingers over the petals of the fiery flower pin. "Do you like it?"_

_ "It's beautiful. I love it."_

_ "Happy anniversary, Sweetheart."_

Yes, happy anniversary. Calliope looked at her bare left hand and tried not to be too disappointed. She'd asked him to marry her almost a week ago and he hadn't said anything. Not a single word to acknowledge what she'd said or that she'd even said anything at all. Maybe he didn't want to get married. Maybe she was just deluding herself.

"You ready to go, Calliope?" Spencer asked, poking his head into the bathroom.

"Yeah. I'm ready," she nodded and turned around.

"You look beautiful," he smiled as he leaned down to kiss her. Calliope wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss. It felt so right with him. Everything was so right. Even the dumb dog that was curled up in the corner destroying Spencer's sweater.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"I want to be an elephant," Calliope told him matter-of-factly while they stood in front of the elephant habitat in the Norfolk Zoo.

"Any particular elephant?"

"That one. The really, really big one."

"Are you having height insecurities again?"

"Possibly."

"I love you," he laughed and squeezed her hand.

"I love you too."

Spencer had taken her back to the Norfolk Zoo for their anniversary, recreating their first Valentine's Day together when he had refused to tell her where they were going until they pulled into the parking lot and she'd heard an elephant trumpeting somewhere to her left.

"You know, there's only three species of elephants still alive today. The Asian, the African bush and the African forest. All others are extinct."

"Wow. Depressing much?"

"Sorry."

"Just don't say anything depressing when we see the lions. They're my favourite."

The sun was starting to set by the time they made their way to the lion cages where Calliope fawned over the four lion cubs. For a while they simply sat on the bench, watching both the lions and the sunset. She sat to his right – close enough that he could smell the kiwi scent of her shampoo, but far enough away that he had to reach slightly to tickle his hand into hers.

When his fingers were laced securely between hers, she looked over at him, smiling almost shyly. She bit her lower lip, apparently torn between something, before scooting closer to Spencer so that they were snuggled closely together and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"The sunset's beautiful," she whispered.

"The colours are a result of the air molecules and atmospheric particles scattering the sunlight, called Rayleigh scattering after the physicist John Strutt, the third Baron Rayleigh. The blue colour is overcome by the red and yellow light caused by the smaller wavelengths of light that result from being scattered by the air molecules and atmospheric particles. The colours become more intense when the sun gets closer to the horizon because the sunlight has to pass through more air. But it is pretty," he agreed, but he wasn't looking at the sun anymore, he studying her, a small grin dancing on his face. Sensing his gaze, Calliope glanced up at him and, seeing him staring so intently, a heated red flush covered her cheeks.

"You are beyond beautiful," Spencer continued, squeezing her hand. "Walk with me?" He asked. Calliope nodded, and she stood with him, not letting go of his hand.

"You don't realize how beautiful you are," he said, after they'd walked in silence for a few minutes. "I don't mean just looks, though you are completely stunning. I'm not going to lie. Your hair – I-I don't even have words, I love it. I love your freckles, sometimes I just want to sit and count the freckles on your nose."

Calliope giggled, swatting his hand away as he dusted his fingers across her cheeks and nose, still keeping her left hand firmly in his.

"And these!" He grabbed the hand that was swatting at his and held both her hands in front of him, "I like watching you type or write, when you're painting… I like your hands – they seem so little, but have so much strength and power in them."

She was biting her lip now, silently willing him to continue. He made her feel like she was the only woman on the planet, the only person who could ever or would ever catch his eye or bring that special smile to his face.

He dropped her right hand, still holding the other, and reached up to tug on her ears, "These are so cute. When your mad at me, the tips of your ears go red. If you were a cartoon, there would totally be steam coming out of your ears."

Calliope burst out laughing and he listened for a moment and laughed with her. "Your laugh," He pressed on. "That's something special. I could listen to you laughing for hours. I could listen to you talk for hours. I love your voice. Even when you're singing." Playfully he nudged her with his shoulder and, seizing the opportunity, she snuggled in against him. Spencer closed his eyes and smiled, wrapping his free arm around her waist and burying his nose into her hair.

"Mmm, and the way you smell," Spencer said, still with his nose in her hair. "You always smell tropical. Your shampoo, the sunscreen, the perfume. Like a beach, like Hawaii.

"But my favorite bit of you, Sweetheart," he looked down at her, "my absolute favorite part, is your eyes. I love them. I never get tired of looking at your eyes. When I look into your eyes, I can see your entire soul. Your eyes are so emotive; everything you feel is shown so clearly through your eyes. And they seem to sparkle in a way that I've never seen before. It's as if your love for life is shining for the world to see through your eyes."

Spencer let go of her hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his fingers glide softly over her cheek as he did. Resting his forehead against hers, Spencer smiled down at her, "Calliope Kirsten Sellers, I never dreamed I'd be lucky enough to find someone as wonderful as you."

He tangled his fingers in her hair at the base of her neck and leaned down, barely brushing his lips against hers at first before he pulled back, looked straight into her eyes and grinned. Smiling the biggest smile she'd ever seen grace his face, he leaned down again, closed his eyes, and kissed her full on the mouth.

Her eyes closed instinctively as the electric feeling ran through her body the way it did every single time they kissed. For a moment, it felt like their first kiss again, like this was the first time he'd ever held her like this or kissed her. Calliope had never imagined kissing Spencer Reid would feel this way, kissing anybody for that matter. Everything felt so completely and wonderfully natural. His lips fit against hers perfectly, the arm around her waist and hand in her hair held her comfortably to him, made her feel safe in a way she'd never felt before she'd met him.

When they separated, Calliope breathed deeply for a moment, watching his smiling brown eyes, his pink cheeks, his lips.

"I've been lucky enough to have you for two years, Calliope. Thank you for the past two years. I can't imagine my life without you. I love you so much, Sweetheart," Spencer slipped his hand into his pocket and closed his fingers around the black velvet jewelry box.

Before she thought about it, Calliope herself back into his arms, her lips pressed against his and her arms wrapped around his neck. Spencer dropped the box back into his pocket and pulled his hand out to catch her. She could feel him smile as he kissed her back, snaking his arms around her waist and lifting her up to twirl her around.

Putting her feet back on the ground, Spencer held her close – his face in her hair, hers in his shoulder; he wasn't ready to let go of her yet. When she moved to pull back, he made a protesting sound in his throat and held her tighter.

"Not yet, Sweetheart," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Too perfect to let go yet."

Calliope giggled and snuggled closer. Everything was too perfect right now. "When I was little, Mammy used to take me outside to watch the sunset. She'd always say, 'Look at what God did. Look at what he's painted for us. God is an amazing painter.' And she was right. God is a fabulous painter. And I have proof in my arms. You said that I'm beautiful, but when I look at you, I'm completely in awe of how handsome you are. And how lucky I am to have you."

"I love your hands. They're so strong and nimble…" She pulled back, ignoring his wordless protest and brought one of his hands up to her cheek. "I love watching you read or write. When your fingers fly over the pages. I like the way your hands feel so big with they're holding mine."

She pressed a kiss into the center of his palm before lacing her fingers between his and looking into his caramel eyes. "I like your arms. I like the way they hold me, I feel so safe. Like nothing could ever hurt me as long as you're holding me.

"I like your mouth, Spencer. I like the way your mouth moves when you're talking; I love the way it spreads when you smile. Your smile lights up your entire face." Calliope stood on her toes to kiss him quickly. "When you smile, you eyes just illuminate. You smile and laugh with those big, brown eyes of yours. Your eyes have so much warmth in them. I like how I can tell what you're feeling or thinking when I glance at your eyes. I like the way you talk to me with looks, our silent conversations. It's a private something special, just for you and me."

Spencer was smiling, watching her as she told him what she loved about him. "Your voice. I love when you talk, when you read to me me, when you tease me. If I'm tense, just the sound of your voice calms me down."

She took both of his hands in hers and looked up at him, looking directly in his eyes. "Every moment I'm with you, even when I'm away from you, I keep falling more and more in love with you. I'm glad you kept coming back to The Hobbit Hole; I'm glad you never gave up."

She pulled him to her and kissed him again. They walked around the zoo for a while longer, Calliope tucked comfortably against his side and Spencer holding her with an arm around her shoulders, the one hand once again holding the small box in his pocket. He just needed a few move seconds to lead her back to the lions. He wanted to ask her right in front of the lions.

"It's getting dark, Spencer. And cold," Calliope whispered.

"I know. We should go. I just want to –"

"Your phone's vibrating, Spencer," Calliope sighed and pulled away. His phone always rang when things were the most perfect. Spencer let go of the box and angrily pulled his phone out of the other pocket.

Why? Why now? Why did his phone have to ring right now? It couldn't wait until tomorrow?

"What?" Spencer barked into the phone.

"_Wow, someone's cranky," Penelope grimaced. "Sorry, Baby Cakes, but the Bat Signal just went up."_

"I'm in Norfolk, García."

"_What are you doing there?"_

"Calliope and I are celebrating two years. It'll take me a while to get back to Quantico."

"_I'm so sorry, Reid. Tell Luce I'm sorry."_

"I will. Bye," Spencer turned off the phone and dropped it back into his pocket. "I'm sorry, Calliope."

"It's alright," she forced a smile. "I had a wonderful day. Thank you. Let's go home."

The moment was gone.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid stormed through the bullpen, down the hall and into García's office. He wasn't mad at García, he knew it wasn't her fault, but he was still upset.

"I'm sorry," García said immediately, thinking he was angry with her.

"I know. It's not your fault. I just need you to keep this safe until we get back," Reid pulled the jewelry box out of his pocket and handed it to her. "I couldn't leave it at home and the bank's closed and I really don't want to take it with me."

"What is it?" García asked, opening it before she could give him a chance to either tell her or give her permission to look. "Oh my God! You're asking Lucy to marry you!"

"Trying to."

"I ruined your proposal!" García looked horrified. "Oh my God, Reid, I'm so, so sorry!"

Reid smiled sadly and turned to leave. "Just keep that safe. I can't afford to replace it."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

29 August, 2010

Penelope had almost fallen asleep around three in the morning, just after the team arrived in Neah Bay, Washington and she had gone home to catch a few hours of sleep when someone pounded on her door. Grumbling a string of curse words that would make a sailor blush under, she grabbed her robe and forced herself towards the front door.

"What are you doing here?"

"I need my best friend," Calliope stood there in her pajamas, holding her pillow and Perses' blanket and leash. Perses yawned sleepily next to her.

"Come on," Penelope ushered her in and closed the door after her. As soon as the dog's blanket was on the floor, Perses threw himself down upon it. He needed twenty-two hours of beauty sleep. Calliope was still standing awkwardly in the foyer area when Penelope returned with two half-gallon cartons of ice cream, bags of marshmallows, chocolate chips and nuts. A thing of Hersey's chocolate syrup was wedged between her chin and her chest and two spoons were stuck in her mouth.

"What are you gonna eat?" Calliope smiled weakly as she took the chocolate syrup and the spoons and sat down on the couch.

"Well, I'd hoped you'd share at least two spoonful with me," Penelope teased, dropping the rest of her load on the coffee table, making Perses jump a bit and raise his head before he decided it wasn't worth his attention.

"I asked him to marry me, Pen. I asked him to marry me and he didn't say anything," Calliope tugged off the lid of the chocolate carton, dug her spoon into the ice cream carton and sniffed. "I mean, granted, it was kinda crazy and I said it while we were standing outside of Dahlia and avoiding going in. But shouldn't it at least warrant a reaction other that 'we should probably go in the house at some point'? I said, 'Spencer, let's get married' and he didn't say anything."

"Luce, you know our Boy Genius. Sometimes it takes a little while for things to really process for him," Penelope dug into her own ice cream.

"It's been over a week and he hasn't said a single thing. It like I hadn't even said anything."

"Well, maybe you scared him," she suggested, trying her hardest to keep her conversation with Spencer and the engagement ring hidden in her nightstand to herself and not blab it because she didn't know what else to say.

"I want to marry him, Pen."

"You will. You and Spencer _will_ get married. You two are meant for each other. You're like two parts of one whole."

"What if it's not what he wants? What if I'm the only one that wants to get married? Maybe I'm just…"

"Maybe nothing," Penelope shook her head forcefully. "He loves you."

"That doesn't necessarily mean he wants to marry me."

"Oh, babe, that's not true. He was ready to adopt Emeline, still is."

"Please, don't make me list parents we know who aren't married starting with J.J. and Will," Calliope pulled the blanket around her shoulders and grabbed the chocolate sauce off the coffee table and squeezed more into her ice cream carton.

"Calliope, I'm your best friend, right?"

"Of course you are," she said, looking slightly offended that Penelope felt the need to ask the question.

"Then listen to me, okay? I've known Reid for six years. You mean everything to him. You and Emeline are his entire world. He doesn't want anything else," Penelope leaned again Calliope and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "He wants to marry you, Callie. Just give him some time."

"We've been together for two years."

"Yeah. That also means he's stuck with your crazy butt for two whole years. He has a pretty good track record, hun. Just give him some time."

"What if we never get married? What if we wind up like Kurt and Goldie and never get married? Maybe I missed the Feminist Express, but I really want to be Mrs. Reid. I don't want to be the genius' crazy girlfriend for the rest of my life. I mean, at some point I really want to be the genius' crazy wife.

"I thought he was going to ask tonight. It really seemed like he was going to, but maybe I was wrong. I mean, I'm not the genius. Maybe I was just making something out of nothing. I mean, he was being romantic, but maybe it wasn't proposal romantic. Maybe it was just two-year-anniversary romantic."

"Callie–"

"And that's another thing! He never calls me Callie. It's always Calliope. It's so weird. Everyone calls me Callie."

"Do you want him to call you Callie?"

"Well, no, I don't really care either way. I respond to either. Hell, sometimes I respond to 'Hey you!' but it's still weird!"

"Whatever you say, crazy lady. Pass the chocolate syrup."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Guess what, guess what, guess what? I was asked to be interviewed in the fanfiction forum "Chit Chat on Author's Corner!" So cool. XD Silly fanfiction doesn't like letting us put website addresses in here, so the link is on my profile. I felt like a celebrity. Hahaha My little fifteen nano seconds of fame.**

**I keep watching Harry Potter trailers. I'm so unbelievably excited. ****Ican'twait****Ican'twait****Ican'twait****Ican'twait! AHHHH. I love Harry Potter.**

******Mum and I watched Toy Story 3 last night. It was so great. So much fun. I love Harry Potter and I love TS3. I always cry at the incinerator part no matter how many times I see it. I'm such a baby.**

******Um... Oh. LB and the BB's had their last in-district game yesterday and it was bad. It was really, really bad. Both teams were undefeated and everyone was expecting this clash of the titans sort of game. Each team is considered a possible state champ contender this year, they're both ranked in the top ten Texas teams. The game was completely sold out on both sides. I mean, standing-room-only sold out. I had to get there at 8:30 (for an 11 o'clock game) just to make sure Mum and I got good seats. The past three years, this game has been THE game of the Texas high school football season. Televised, reporters everywhere, live streaming on the internet... you'd seriously think it was pro football. It's insane. And we just rolled over! It was a disaster. They KILLED us. 56 to 3. FIFTY-SIX TO THREE! Okay. I can't talk about this anymore. Both teams are in division one play-offs, so we just have to regroup and get back on the ball.**

******I'm done ranting now. Thanks so much for reading and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

******Love, Thalia**


	45. Chapter 44

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.'" – Eleanor Roosevelt _

o o o o

12 September, 2010

"I'm stealing your electric razor!"

"Why?" Spencer asked without looking up from his book, stretched out on the couch with his back rested against the arm of the couch. Perses made a strange noise low in his throat, rested his head on Spencer's stomach and blinked up at him. "You're a goofball," Spencer smiled at the dog and ran a head over his head before looking back at his book. "Why are you stealing the razor?"

"I'm shaving my head!"

"Please don't," he responded out of habit, flipping the page.

"I have to," Calliope called back.

"Why?"

"So I don't have to pull it out strand by strand."

"And why do you have to do that?"

A loud crash sounded across the house, followed by several foul words the likes of which Spencer wasn't sure even the Marines at Quantico knew. That was one of the several things Spencer loved about his Calliope: she could seem like the purest angel at times who'd never think a mean thought, much less let it come out of her mouth, but then, just when one was thinking how sweet she was, she'd shatter the illusion with all the grace of a hippo in pointe shoes.

"I'm throwing myself off the Empire State Building!" Calliope proclaimed in a mix of anger and frustration.

"I'd rather you didn't."

"This isn't about you!"

"Well in that case, okay. Go ahead and throw yourself off the Empire State Building."

"You'd let me fling myself off a hundred story building?" Calliope's voice was incredulous.

"Absolutely not. There's a bigger chance of García becoming a defense lawyer than me letting you kill yourself, but whatever answer I give is wrong," Spencer shrugged and flipped the page carelessly.

"You don't love me anymore," she sniffed playfully.

"Not a bit."

"Well then, I don't love you either, Dr. Meaniepants."

"Good to know."

"My ability to bait you is dissipating somewhat. Sad."

"What fell a few minutes ago?"

"Oh, you know, all Mammy's hopes and dreams and expectations for me. Makes a loud crash, don't it?" Calliope's voice was light and joking, but Spencer could hear the bitterness hiding behind her happy smile if only because he knew it was there. Spencer closed his book and swung his legs over the couch, disturbing the dog, who immediately jumped off the couch and followed at his heels as they walked down the hallway together.

"Calliope?" Spencer asked as he knocked at the frame of her open studio, careful to keep his eyes averted from the room incase the paintings he wasn't allowed to see were sitting on the easels.

"Don't look!"

"I'm not." Once the door clicked closed, Spencer looked up to see Calliope standing in front of him. Her face was tired and weary, the dark circles under her eyes unmistakable and hard for him to look past, her hair pulled back away from her face but so messy and knotted Spencer wasn't sure she'd be able to run a brush through it when she took it down; the huge t-shirt that would have been large even on Derek or Hotch fell past her denim shorts and the dark cotton was a shocking contrast against her pale, skinny legs that hadn't seen enough sun that summer. "You need out of that room."

"I don't have time," Calliope shook her head, stifling a yawn and feeling for the doorknob to her left. "There's so much to finish and I don't even have a full week to finish it all."

"I changed my mind. It's not out of the room you need. You need a nap," he reasserted, reaching out to pull her hand away from the doorknob. She reluctantly let him pull her away from the door to her studio mainly because she didn't have the energy to resist. If she hadn't been so completely exhausted, she could have pulled away from him in a second, breaking his grip without a thought, but she was tired. She didn't have the energy to say 'no,' much less back it up, when he led her away from the studio. She protested feebly as he led her into their bedroom, but he just shook his head and pushed her to the bed.

"Okay…" she yawned when her head connected with the pillow and Spencer turned the light off. "Wake me up in an hour."

"Two hours," Spencer bargained, leaning against the doorframe and smiling a little when she spread out on her stomach and her face disappeared beneath an explosion of red curls.

"Hour and a half?"

"Three hours."

"I can't sleep for three hours, Spencer," Calliope pushed herself up onto her elbows and stared at him like he'd just told her that, if she jumped off Empire State Building, she'd sprout wings and fly like a cardinal. "I have a collection being unveiled on Saturday night and it's not finished."

Spencer shook his head and pushed himself off the wall, pulling the door closed behind him. He climbed onto the bed beside her and leaned back against the headboard. Calliope looked puzzled, but lifted her hands when he started to pull her shirt off.

"Lie down and relax," he smiled, running his hand over her back and gently pushing her back down onto her stomach.

"I can't relax," she protested weakly as he scooted down next to her and started massaging the knots in her shoulders.

"You're too tense, Sweetheart."

Calliope didn't respond except for a whimper of pain when he hit a particularly tight knot at the base of her neck. He was wondering when she'd gotten the bright, lime green sports bra she wore when he realized she'd fallen asleep. Spencer kept rubbing her back until he was sure she wouldn't wake up if he stopped. Carefully, an inch at a time, Spencer slid off the bed and silently snuck through the bedroom door, trying his hardest not to make a sound as he closed the door after him.

He could hear his phone ringing where he'd left it by the couch and ran to answer before the obnoxious sound woke Calliope. She needed sleep, but he needed her to sleep even more. It was difficult enough keeping up with her on a normal day. Keeping up with her once she was exhausted was nearly impossible and it tended to give him a migraine. She needed to sleep if he were going to survive the next week.

"Hello?"

_ "Poppy?"_

"Emeline, hi, Princess," Spencer sat down in the club chair and closed his eyes. "How are you?"

"_I got bitted by a spider!"_

"What?" Spencer straightened in alarm.

"_I got bitted by a big, big spider. Big spider, Poppy! It was bigger than Maman. And it was purple," Emeline launched into an animated story of a giant spider, but all he could think about was whether or not she'd actually been bitten by a spider. "It tried to eat me, Poppy, but I runned away from the spider. It bit off Yva's arm."_

Spencer knew a ninety-pound spider didn't exist, much less had bitten his daughter, but that didn't change the fact that he was more upset over the chance that she had been bitten by a spider, whatever the size, than he had been over the last time he'd stared down the barrel of a gun. He wanted so badly to pull her into his lap and physically check to see whether or not there was an insect bite, but he couldn't. And he couldn't ask Emeline if she'd really been bitten, because her reaction be an outraged 'Poppy!' over the fact that he had the audacity to doubt her five-foot tall, purple spider, so he'd have to wait until later to ask Maria what had really happened.

She didn't sound like she was in pain and Maria hadn't called them, so it must be under control. Not that that assuaged his panic at all.

"Did the spider bite hurt?"

"_Wi," Emeline exclaimed shrilly. "Anpil!"_

Spencer had to hold the phone away from his ear a little and winced. When she'd stopped shrieking, he held the phone closer. "It hurt a lot?"

"_Big owie. I gots a Band-Aid, Poppy. Poppy come kiss Emeline all better," Emeline picked at a pink Disney Princess Band-Aid on her forearm and _

"I wish I could, Princess."

"_Where's Maman?"_

"Maman's sleeping, Eme."

"_Talk to Maman," Emeline said simply._

"Not right now. Maman needs to sleep. You can talk to her later, okay? Once she wakes up."

"_But I wanna talk to Maman," Emeline pouted and Spencer smiled a little bit, imagining the adorable face she was making._

"Maman needs to sleep. She's really, really tired."

"_But she's my Maman."_

"Yes, she is. But she still needs to sleep."

Spencer spoke to Maria after a long and animated conversation with Emeline and was relieved when she told him that Emeline had a spider crawl on her arm, but it hadn't bitten her and she'd given the little girl a bandage to calm her down. After a while, the phone call ended and Spencer tucked the phone into his pocket. Perses sat by the backdoor whining a little.

"C'mon. Let's go," Spencer pushed himself up off the couch and took the dog outside to the backyard. One good thing about this crazy dog was that he didn't care how awkwardly Spencer threw the tennis ball as long as he threw it. Perses brought the slobbery ball back to him time and time again, his tail wagging happily at the attention he'd been missing the past week or so while Calliope threw herself into finishing her paintings.

Perses finally collapsed at Spencer's feet as the sun started going down and gnawed on the tennis ball, his tail thumped happily against the ground as Spencer sat down on the grass next to him and ran a hand over his back. "You are one great dog, Perses. Even if you do destroy my clothing."

Perses blinked up at him and dropped the ball into his lap like a peace offering. Of course he was a good dog. And if Daddy didn't leave so often, he wouldn't have to take the clothes that smelled like him. It wasn't his fault. Daddy just shouldn't leave so much.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

14 September, 2010

Reid looked back at the clock at the bottom of the screen on his computer and grinned. His long day of paperwork was over. Well, it wasn't over, but it could be continued at home. He had more paperwork that anyone else, mostly because Morgan and Prentiss would sneak some of their folders into his pile when they thought he wouldn't notice.

Honestly, he normally didn't mind. It took him a fraction of the time it would take them, but it was bugging him a bit today. He didn't want to spend the time to do their work today. He wanted to spend it trying to distract Calliope away from her paintbrushes long enough to get about an hour with her where she wasn't talking to him from within a room he wasn't allowed into. He just wanted about an hour, but getting that hour would probably take about three.

"Hey! Morgan," Reid called out across the bullpen as Morgan walked out of Hotch's office. "I have something for you."

"You got me a present, Pretty Boy?" Morgan joked, walking over to Reid's desk.

"No. I'm returning yours. These belong to you," he pulled three brown files from his stack and handed them to Morgan and then pulled four more out and handed them over the frosted glass divider to Prentiss. "And these belong to you. Much better."

Reid picked up the remaining three files that were actually his and slipped them into his messenger bag with a smile. He leaned over his chair and powered down his computer while Prentiss and Morgan both groaned at being found out.

"I'd have thought you'd relish the excuse to hid out in your office while Cal looses it this week," Morgan shook his head, only half joking. "I bet she's driving you crazy while she gets everything ready."

"'After all these years, I see that I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning; it is better to live outside the Garden with her than inside it without her.'"

"Huh? Reid, what are you talking about?" Morgan asked, looking up from the folder he'd just cracked open to watch the youngest of them all pack up his desk for the night.

Reid slipped his computer in his messenger bag and flipped the flap closed. "Look it up," he said, standing up and offering Morgan a smile before walking away.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

15 September, 2010

Calliope downed a large Americano with several espresso shots in two huge gulps. She took a last look around the studio, carefully scanning to make sure all the pieces that were supposed to be take had indeed been taken, before calling for the dog and heading out the door. Spencer had only left a few minutes ago and the dog was still freaking out. Perses had completely lost it this morning. He'd run away with Spencer's shoes and then tried to steal her keys. He'd nearly swallowed them before Spencer managed to get them back.

Perses was pacing back and forth in front the garage door, growling angrily as the men carefully carried the cases of paintings past him and out the front door. One of the men had reached out to pat Perses' head and the usually friendly dog snapped at hit hand. Since that moment, they'd all stayed as far away from Perses as they could. Calliope still didn't understand what was going on with the dog. He'd never acted this way before.

"Okay, baby. You be good, okay?" Calliope bent down and kissed the growling dogs' muzzle. "What has gotten into you, Pers? You be good. Don't eat anything you shouldn't."

Calliope stood up and walked away from the crazy animal. Perses followed her closely as she slipped her feet into the ridiculously high wedges, grabbed her bag and keys off the counter and headed towards the garage door Perses had been guarding. Before she realized what was happening, Perses lunged at her and grabbed the leg of her jeans, his sharp teeth catching a bit of skin by her knee as she toppled over.

"Perses! Ow, shit! Bad dog! Bad, bad dog!" She was almost an hour late before bandages awkwardly covered the gashes Perses left on her leg and she was wearing a new, non-ripped pair of short denim shorts. Perses still followed her closely as she ditched the wedges in favour of her worn-out boots. Pulling on an oversized green, knit cardigan, she looked down to see Perses guarding the garage door again and growling at her.

"What is wrong with you? What the hell is wrong with you today?" Calliope pulled her phone from her purse and hit the first speed dial. "Spencer? The dog is acting insane. No, he bit me! I know! No, I'm okay. He didn't get me very deep. I don't know what's wrong with him. It's like he doesn't want me to leave. Has he eaten anything weird? Okay. Well, I'm gonna take him with me, see if that doesn't calm him down. He's really freaking me out."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"No, I don't want yellow roses," Morgan growled into his cell phone as he walked through the glass door into the bullpen. "I told you. A dozen red roses. Not yellow roses. Red. A dozen red roses and a single pink rose. No, not together. A dozen red roses by themselves and then a single pink rose. Jeeze. Is Paola there?"

Reid looked up from pouring sugar into his coffee and stopped worrying about what was wrong with his dog for a second as Morgan stopped next to him and, with the cell phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder, reached for the coffee pot.

"She is? Let me talk to her. She'll talk to me. Just tell her it's Derek. You're new, aren't you? I thought so. Oh my God, kid. Just give Paola the damned phone, will you? Yes! I _am_ getting pissed off. I want to talk to Paola. Tell her it's Derek. Derek Morgan!"

Morgan stormed away from Reid towards his office with his coffee and the scowl still burned onto his face. Prentiss watched from where she sat at her desk next to Reid's.

"Geeze… someone's in a helluva bad mood today," Prentiss whistled once Morgan was well out of earshot.

"It's the fifteenth," Reid shrugged.

"Why is he always in a bad mood on the fifteenth? It doesn't make sense. And it's every freaking month, so it's not like it's an anniversary or something," Prentiss wondered aloud, not really expecting Reid to answer her because she knew he didn't know any more than she did. "This is the first time I've ever heard him ordering flowers though. At all. A dozen red roses? He must be in some serious trouble. I didn't even know he was dating anyone."

"I don't think he is," Reid shook his head and sat down.

"Hey! PG, come here," Prentiss waved García over as she walked through the bullpen.

"What's up?" García stopped riffling through her purse as she came up.

"Does Morgan have a girlfriend?"

"Not that I know of."

"He's buying flowers. A dozen red roses and one pink. And it's the fifteenth. He's always in a bad mood on the fifteenth. What's going on with him?"

"I don't know." This time García avoided Prentiss' eyes.

"Oh, come on. He tells you everything! Fess up. What's up with Morgan?"

"No, he doesn't. He doesn't tell me everything. And I don't know. I have to go."

"Wow," Reid remarked in surprise as García stalked away in a fashion similar to Morgan's had been a few minutes previous, except García was wearing rhinestone encrusted heels. "You managed to make García angry. I don't think that was possible. I mean, by someone who isn't an unsub."

"She totally knows something."

"Just leave it alone, Emily. He's probably just having a bad day."

"Every time the calendar hits the fifteenth?"

"Let him have his secrets. You wouldn't want him prying into every time you had a bad day," Reid shook his head and hit the power button on his computer.

"Who made you hall monitor?" Prentiss snarked.

"What?"

"You're no fun. I miss J.J. She'd gossip with me. You… You won't even talk about it. You're such a downer."

"Emily, García _investigated_ Calliope before I even finished my first date with her. She spied on our first date by hacking into security cameras. We all practically live together. I see more of the team than I do of Calliope. I can understand if he doesn't want his personal business to become the gossip of his coworkers."

"He does it to you all the time."

"He jokes. He doesn't pry."

"I hate to break it to you, kid, but Morgan was spying on your date with Callie right next to García. The entire time."

"What?"

"He was. They ordered a pizza and made popcorn. García accidently let it slip when she and Jayje and I were at a bar a few months ago. She was so drunk."

"Jeeze… I do _not_ get paid enough to work with you guys."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Hey, Handsome," García slipped into Morgan's office and closed the door behind her. "Rough morning?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," Morgan sighed without looking up.

"Wanna talk?"

"I'm okay," he looked up at his best friend and offered a tense smile that didn't fool the woman for a fraction of a second. "I'll _be_ okay."

"You sure?"

"I'll be fine, Penelope. Scouts honour."

"Oh please. You were never a Boy Scout, Derek Morgan," García's bright pink lips curved into a smile before it faded slightly. "You know I'm here if you decide you want to talk or something, right?"

"I know."

"Any time. Seriously."

"Even if you're out with Lynch?" Morgan teased.

"Kevin who?" García joked back. "Best friend comes before boyfriend."

"You're one of a kind, woman. You know that?"

"So I've been told," García was almost out the door when Morgan spoke with a tone that seemed like he wasn't sure he really wanted to say what he was about to say.

"You think… tonight? If you don't have anything planned."

"It's a date. I'll bring the comfort food."

"Comfort food?" Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"Well, if we're gonna talk, we need comfort food. Ice cream, chocolate, cake…" García stared at him with a 'duh' look in her brown eyes.

"Oh. I don't usually do 'comfort food.'"

"Really?" García cocked her head to the side. "You don't watch movies while stuffing your face? What do you do when you're upset then?"

"I have a punching bag," he explained with a grin on his face.

"Wow… boys are so weird," she shook her head and closed the door behind her. "It's like you're from a different planet."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Perses felt the leather of the dashboard sink around his claws as he watched intently from the front seat for Mommy to come out of the weird little store she'd stopped in. She hadn't taken him in with her. Mommy always took him in with her. He'd never been left in the car before. He liked the car, but he didn't like being left in the car while Mommy disappeared. He wanted Mommy to come back.

This morning had been weird. Strangers kept taking away his things from the room that smelt weird. They just took his things like they belonged to them. Put them in boxes and carted them away. And Mommy just let them! How could Mommy let them take his things? And then Daddy left like everything was okay and it was normal. Daddy left them with the strangers. And then Mommy tried to leave too.

He didn't like this. Perses whined as he waited for Mommy to come back. Partially because he wasn't sure if he could get his claws out of the car without her help and partially because he didn't like that she was gone where he couldn't see her.

There was Mommy. She had bags with her now. Maybe she had something for Perses. Uh, oh. Mommy wasn't going to be happy about what he'd done to the dashboard.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid sat taking a brief break from paperwork in the round-table room when García came in and sat next to him.

"Hey Boy Wonder. How you doing?"

"Pretty good. Just needed a break. I've been doing so much paperwork my hand keeps cramping up."

"Same here. If I convert one more file from paper to the computer, I think my head will explode. I can't keep facts straight anymore and I keep typing in the wrong information and having to start over. Needed a breather. Can I turn on the news?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Have any plans for tonight?" García asked as she flipped through channels before settling on a local news station.

"Nothing set. Probably take Perses for a walk, make dinner for Calliope. Try and get her to relax for a second so I can relax. Calliope's at This Century Art Gallery this afternoon, so she'll be home late."

"Why's she there?"

"She has an art exhibit going up this weekend. She's with the curator setting everything up."

"Oh right. I forgot for a second. Which collection?" García asked, turning from the TV to look at him.

"'Faces of Haiti.' Or at least that's what it's being advertised as. She won't let me see it, so I don't really know anything about it that you don't. The Smithsonian wants to show it next year on the anniversary of the earthquake."

"I can't wait to see it. What should I wear? I've never been to a gallery opening."

"I don't know. Ask Calliope. Besides, if I tell you and I'm wrong, you'll both be mad at me. It's easier for me if you ask her. Safer too."

"You're so girl savvy, Reid."

Reid rolled his eyes and García changed the channel.

_ "Earlier today, police responded to a call in Williamsburg, Virginia from a shop owner Shannon Daugherty about an SUV that had been in their parking lot for three hours with a large dog locked inside, barking. Upon arrival, police found a ransom note tucked under the windshield wiper."_

"I wonder if we're going to get called in for that one," García sighed as she watched the reporter on the screen.

"Huh?" Reid said absently, not looking up from the National Geographic he was immersed in.

"The news. There's been a kidnapping. They left a ransom note."

Reid looked up from the magazine. "Where did the journalist say they are?"

"Williamsburg. Why?"

"That's my dog. That's Perses."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

J.J. was walking down a hallway to her new boss' office when a report on the television caught her attention and she looked up from the paper she was reading. Brushing blonde bangs out of her eyes, she stared, dumbstruck, at the screen and what looked like her friends' face in a grainy black and white screen shot.

The bottom of the screen read 'KIDNAPPED' within a bright blue banner underneath the picture. The face was familiar despite the pixilation and terrible quality of whatever had snapped the picture and J.J.'s stomach free fell. The sound of papers scattering and the shatter of her mug against the tile floor never registered as she ran the last five yards to her boss' office.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"That's my dog. That's Perses."

"Reid, are you sure?"

"I know my own dog, García. He sleeps at the end of the bed every night. I was chasing him before I came into work today – he was running around with my shoe... Turn up the volume. Turn it up."

_ "… hoax at until they reviewed the parking lot's surveillance system and saw a young woman, believed to be in her mid-twenties, pulled into the back of a large blue van parked next to her. The police have not released her name to the public as of yet."_

"Oh my god," García breathed as gritty security tape filled the screen and the pair watched in horror. Calliope was close enough to where the camera was stationed for them to see she was scowling at something and scratching Perses under the chin, while she put a few bags onto the floor in front of the dog. A dark van pulled up in the parking spot next to her and the door opened. Calliope shut the car door, started to walk around to the drivers' side, and a large black figure reached out of the van and pulled her in. A second man dressed in black jumped out of the drivers seat and slipped a note under the windshield wiper. The door slammed shut and the vehicle sped out of the lot, leaving Perses pressing his paws to the window and barking like mad.

Reid sat, stunned and staring at the screen as they switched from the tape back to the reporter. García, on the other hand, was out of the room, calling anxiously over the railing into the bullpen.

"Emily, get Derek. Go! Run! We're already four hours behind." She banged on Hotchs' office door with Prentiss left in the direction of Morgan's office, not bothering to question on what they were four hours behind. "Hotch, Rossi. We have a kidnapping."

"Where?"

"Williamsburg. It's on the news right now."

"Is it a child?"

"No."

"Have we been invited?"

"Not yet. But trust me, we will be. And even if we aren't… you need to see this, because we're going anyways."

"I know you're still learning the ropes of this part of the job, García, but that's not your call to make. We can't just invite ourselves in."

"Trust me."

Rossi and Hotch followed García into the conference room where Reid still sat watching the TV, paler than ever and looking like he was going to be sick. Morgan and Prentiss came into the room as Rossi and Hotch were sitting down.

_ "…has not been disclosed by the police as of right now. But, please, be on the lookout for a large, dark blue van that does not have any license plates. If you see the van or this woman, call the tip line at the bottom of your screen._

"Oh my god," Prentiss couldn't tear her eyes away from the screen.

"Someone please tell me that is _not_ our Cal," Morgan demanded, looking away from the coarse screen shot plastered on the screen.

"Calliope Sellers. Age twenty-seven." García muted the television behind her as they went to a commercial about fabric softener. "She was taken from Williamsburg, Virginia out side of a corner store where she stopped before going to This Century Art Gallery to begin setting up her 'Faces of Haiti' exhibit three hours ago. There are at least two unsubs – one driving and one snatching. They left a ransom note under the windshield wiper. Her dog was locked in the car, barking, for three hours before the storeowner called the police. According to this, that was forty minutes ago."

"Why the hell did he wait three hours before calling?" Morgan asked, flabbergasted.

"I don't care about what the hell protocol says, Hotch. I'm not looking at anything else until we catch these goddamned sons of bitches and get our Cal back," Morgan stated furiously, standing up from the table and grabbing his go bag from the corner where all their bags rested, tossing Rossi his when he motioned for it. Whatever bad mood he'd come in with this morning multiplied and intensified to the point where no stranger would ever dream of coming up to the man at that moment.

Hotch wasn't paying attention to Morgan's outburst; he had his phone out and to his ear. "Hello, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico. Yes, we're watching the news right now. We would like to offer our help. I was hoping I could get an invitation for our team to come to Williamsburg to consult on this case. No, you're right, this wouldn't normally be a BAU case. An agent on our team has been in a relationship with victim for the past two years. We can help. Yes, thank you very much, Detective Myers. Agent Penelope García will get the information from you and we'll be in Williamsburg in forty-five minutes." Hotch handed the phone to García and turned to his team. "Get your go-bags. García, you too. Morgan, help García. Wheels up in ten – five if we can make it."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Her head was killing her. Calliope had never had a headache this bad. It felt like her brain was trying to pound itself out of her skull. She tried to bring her hands up to massage her temples, but they were tied tightly behind her back. So tightly that whatever bound her hands was digging in and hurting her wrists. Her shoulders ached from being back so far. Something was over her eyes, too, and she couldn't open them. Her heart started pounding and she wanted desperately to see where she was.

"Hello? Is anybody there?"

There was no response other than a slight echo of her own voice. The only thought that went through her head as she fought not to start crying was that maybe she wasn't as fearless and brave as her Grandpa had teased her about being when she was younger.

"Grandpa… I want my Grandpa. Get me out of here, Grandpa. Please. Help! Hello! Can anybody hear me?"

* * *

**A/N:**

**Oh, shit. What's the crazy person doing to our friends now? (BTW - I'm the crazy person.)**

**Funnily enough, I actually wrote most of Callie's kidnapping back in January. It was the first big part of the story to be developed. I've known for almost a year that this was going to happen. I'm so damn sneaky. Sneaky, sneaky. Teehee...heehee... The document where I wrote all this out was created Monday, 25 January, 2010 at 11:57 PM. I think I started writing Mystery Muse on, like, 12 December or something. Emeline was actually thought up much later. She was one of the unexpected surprises us writers sometimes love, sometimes loathe that just create themselves while we're writing. Don't worry - I love Emeline. She was a love, not a loathe.**

**So, I'm pretty sure all of you are CRAZY mad at me right now and, well, sorry, but... I'm totally not sorry! Not a single bit. It's crazy, because, since I started this part back in January, I had no idea what moronic thing CBS was gonna do in cutting J.J. so she was part of the story and I had to disperse her lines and give most of them to García and it made me sad. Because it's so much better coming from J.J. I still miss J.J. Crazy miss J.J. I'm still not quite used to García giving the briefings. It still feels wrong.**

**HARRY POTTER IN T-12 HOURS! My Aunt Numero Uno and I are going to see HP7.1 at midnight in... IMAX! My aunt's just too cool. She's too cool for school. Especially because... this was totally her idea! She was like, "Hey, Thal... You wanna go to Harry Potter in IMax? ...At midnight?" And, of course, I was like, "... HELL YEAH!" So I'm going home. For the third week in a row. To see Harry Potter. In IMax. With my aunt. Who's like... 55. And I'm like... 21. Yeah. I'm cool. Not going with friends. I'm going with my aunt. And, shocker to some of yall, I'm totally freaking excited! I can't wait to go see it with her. LOVE IT.**

**Okay. I've gotta go because I have to go to Walmart and get stuff so I can cart my fishies, Rabbit and Dragon, home for the first time ever and then I have to pack them up and then I have to DRIVE DRIVE DRIVE TO HARRY POTTER!**

**Thanks for reading and I applaud all those who actually made it through that completely spastic author's note. I hope you liked it (even those who want to throw moldy zucchini at me for having Cal kidnapped) and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**

**P.S. I haven't had a single ounce of caffeine today. That author's note was COMPLETELY SANS CAFFEINE. I dunno how I do it. It's a talent. BAI!**


	46. Chapter 45

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Every man is afraid of something. That's how you know he's in love with you; when he is afraid of losing you." – Author Unknown_

o o o o

15 September, 2010

_ "Calliope, what in the world are you doing?" Spencer pushed the window open and poked his head out to stare at Calliope out in their backyard while rain pelted down on her._

_ "Dancing."_

_ "You're already sick, Calliope. Come inside," Spencer yelled as the wind picked up and forced him to raise his voice to be heard._

_ "No. Come outside."_

_ "I'm not coming outside. You're crazy. Please, Calliope. Come inside."_

_ "Being out in the rain doesn't cause colds. That's an old wives tale," Calliope retorted and continued to twirl around with her arms outstretched and her head back. Her hair was soaked completely and her wet clothes clung to her, making her look so small without the volume of her hair._

_ "No, the rain won't cause illness," Spencer agreed, shaking his head in frustration. "But you're standing out there in the cold and your body temperature's dropping and that drop in temperature is making it easier and easier for the enzymes in the bacteria that's making you sick to replicate at an even faster pace. The more bacteria in your body, the longer you're going to stay sick because your body will have more to fight off and kill. That's why you get a fever in the first place – it's your body's most effective way of ending the bacteria's reproduction and the most effective way to kill the bacteria already present. So will you please come back inside and get warm again?"_

_ "Mmm… no," Calliope pretended to give his request a moment of consideration before going back to 'dancing.'_

_ Pulling the window in and latching it shut, Spencer stalked to the French doors that lead out to where Calliope was. Throwing the door open and then slamming it shut so the puppy wouldn't dart out into the rain, Spencer walked out onto the porch, not continuing down the steps and to the grass, but staying on the wood underneath the roof where it was still dry._

_ "Calliope, come inside."_

_ "Were you ever a child, Spencer?" she asked in a tone containing an air of nonchalance, like they weren't in the middle of an argument._

"_I don't think so," he groused petulantly. "Besides, you're child enough for both of us. Come inside."_

"_I'm okay."_

"_You're not okay. You're sick," Spencer felt close to stomping his foot like a child as he regurgitated the statement for the umpteenth time. "You're supposed to be sleeping. In bed. Warm. The doctor said you needed to stay in bed and stay warm."_

"_Eh, that doctor doesn't know what he's talking about."_

_Spencer felt pressure build behind his left temple. She was giving him a migraine. She was the worst patient he'd ever met. She was worse than his mother. And his mother was a paranoid schizophrenic. Calliope was worse, without a shadow of a doubt. He'd rather take care of his mother single handedly for a week than spend one afternoon with Calliope when she was sick._

_She wasn't demanding or depressed, she didn't take out the fact that she wasn't feeling well on him – she just didn't do what she was supposed to do. She ignored the doctors and did whatever she wanted. Like right now. Instead of nestling down in bed with a hot drink and just watching a movie or reading a book, she decided to go outside and twirl around in what would have easily been a blizzard if it were fifteen degrees colder._

"_Fine. Stay outside. Become even sicker. Push your fever even higher."_

"_You're mad at me," Calliope stopped and looked at him._

"_You're damn right I'm mad at you," Spencer scowled. The cuss word slapped Calliope across the face and she stared dumfounded. Spencer rarely swore at her. In general, yes, but rarely at her. The last time he swore at her they'd been in the middle of a shouting match, foul language flying everywhere, mostly from her, and that had been two… three months ago?_

"_I'm sorry," Calliope pushed wet hair off of her face and walked towards the house and out of the rain. She was so soaking wet that she might as well have jumped into the pool or the pond on the back of the property with all her cloths on. Looking up at him apologetically, Calliope offered a rueful smile. Spencer sighed, unable to stay mad at her when she looked at him like that, melting him without even meaning to, and he kissed her forehead. _

"_Come on. Let's get you warm again."_

A hand on Reid's shoulder made him jump and drew him out of the memory of almost a year ago. Morgan looked at his partner with a questioning look in his eyes, but didn't ask.

"I should have danced with her."

"You'll have plenty of chances to dance with Cal, Reid," Morgan offered a tight smile, not knowing the exact moment Reid spoke about, but knowing what his partner needed to hear. "We'll get her back and you'll be dancing with her in no time. C'mon. The jet's ready."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Can't we go any faster?"

"We're already going a hundred and forty-one miles per hour, lady," the helicopter pilot snarked in aggravation. "We'll be there in three more minutes. You can't hold on three minutes?"

"Go faster."

"Any faster and it'll take longer to land."

J.J. looked out the window and saw the tarmac getting larger and larger as they got closer. She could see the team, _her_ team, boarding the jet and she wanted to bang on the window to try and get their attention, not that they could have heard her and that probably would have angered the already irate pilot. He was supposed to be on his lunch brake and, instead, he was flying the thirty miles or so from the Pentagon to the FBI Academy.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Did I do this?" Reid asked, staring at the file the Williamsburg P.D. sent them and García had printed out as soon as they boarded the plane.

"Not according to this note," Morgan reassured him, looking down at the photograph of the ransom note as they listened to the jet's engine warm up. "I don't think these unsubs even know you exist. All they know about Cal is that she has a crazy amount of money and grandparents who will give anything to get her back."

"If they knew about you, they would have said 'don't involve the FBI' instead of 'don't involve the police," Hotch said, looking up at Reid.

"Okay, enough bullshit," Rossi interrupted, cutting off Reid right as he opened his mouth. "Step away from that self-loathing train of thought, Reid, or we won't get anywhere. If you can't do that, you need to step away from the case. Just be part of the family with Dr. and Ms. Sellers. Can you do this as an agent? None of us will think any less of you if you can't."

"Yes," Reid said. "I can handle this. You're right. Sorry."

"Okay," Rossi nodded. "Let's focus on what the unsubs left for us. What do we know for sure?"

"Um… guys," Prentiss pointed out the window. "Is that who I think it is?"

"J.J.?" Morgan stood and leaned over Prentiss to squint out the window at the blond running across the tarmac towards their jet. "Hey – open the door and let down the stairs!"

"What the hell…?" Rossi stood too, peering around Morgan's shoulder.

"I think I just fired myself," J.J. gasped as she ran up the steps two at a time. Bent over, she clutched Morgan's arm and held a hand over the cramp in her side, trying to catch her breath.

"J.J., what are you doing here?" Hotch asked seriously.

"I saw Callie on the news. I had to come. I told my boss. I explained. He even said to take the helicopter."

"I can't authorize you being on this jet, J.J."

"The abduction of a political or symbolic figure can be considered terrorism," J.J. pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of the pocket of her brown slacks.

"This isn't terrorism," Hotch shook his head.

"Unfortunately, the Department of Defense didn't realize that when they signed _this_."

Hotch took the paper from J.J. and opened it. Once he'd read it through twice, he looked up at her with his eyebrows raised.

"J.J., you conned them into signing this," he sighed. "You knew it wasn't terrorism."

"Well, technically, I didn't know that. But that doesn't matter now. The Pentagon has assigned me as lesion on this case. The unsub may have kidnapped Callie in an attempt to control the Seller's family and use their money, power and connections to indirectly attack the United States Government. You don't have the authority to send me away."

"Way to go, J.J.," Prentiss laughed and pushed past Rossi then Hotch to give her a hug. "I missed you."

"I missed you too. So what do we have?"

"Well, first it's unsubs. At least two," Prentiss started as Hotch sighed in resignation and nodded to the co-pilot to close the jet's door. "And they left a ransom note."

"Hey, Spence," J.J. said softly, sitting next to Reid after taking the copy of the ransom note Prentiss had offered her.

"J.J.!" Reid jumped slightly. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't – I just told eve – I'll explain later."

"They abducted her from a public place," Morgan began when everyone was sitting again. "So obviously they don't think they're going to be caught. They think they've thought of everything. They took the license plates off the van so the number couldn't be tracked."

"Both unsubs completely covered themselves," Hotch noted. "Dark jeans, black hoodies, gloves, ski masks. They didn't want to show anything identifiable and they haven't. You can't even tell what race they are. García, do you have enough to do that rendering thing?"

"Lightyears ahead of you, Sugar. I began it as soon as we got on the plane," García told him without looking up. "I'll let you know the minute I have results."

"García, don't call me 'Sugar.'"

"Guys, I think he chloroformed her." Reid turned the picture he was holding so everyone else could see. "Right here. See, the unsub's got his hand covering both her mouth _and_ her nose. Usually they only cover the mouth to keep the victim from screaming, not both orifices. If you look closely at his hand, you can see some cloth sticking out. The unsub might have either submerged the cloth in liquid chloroform and then let it dry or put it in a container with chloroform vapors. Either way would have effectively saturated the fabric.

"That would explain her complete lack of defensive fighting. Calliope's had extensive self-defense training – Dr. Sellers insisted on it. Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. I'm not saying she could have fought him off; thinking that would be stupid. Especially with how exhausted she's been lately. But there's no way she would have been taken like this without someone hearing or seeing a struggle unless she was subdued."

"Chloroform's an anesthetic, right?" J.J. asked, taking the picture from him.

"A very antiquated and dangerous anesthetic," Reid told them, talking faster and faster as he went on. "It was discovered in Europe in 1847 and American doctors tried to used it in the early 1900s, but they discarded it almost immediately because they found out it was toxic and can cause cardiac dysrhythmia, also known as arrhythmia or, um, 'sudden sniffer's death', meaning the chloroform raises or lowers the heart rate to the point where it's too fast or too slow, respectively. Sometimes the arrhythmia is so intense that it can send the patient into cardiac arrest and/or cause abrupt death.

"But what's important for us, for this case, is that chloroforms effects are felt instantaneously when inhaled. The vapors restrict the central nervous system. Inhaling chloroform at nine hundred parts per million for not even half a second would leave someone extremely lightheaded and physically exhausted. If she were chloroformed, it would explain why she didn't fight back. She physically couldn't. In fraction of a second, the unsub had complete control over her."

"How long will the effects last?"

"Depends on how much is inhaled," Reid said, matter of fact. "But these unsubs are smart. They've thought of everything, covered all their tracks, and did everything to make sure they couldn't be identified."

"So, they wouldn't use a chemical without knowing exactly what would happen," Rossi finished. "They researched chloroform or they've used it before, they knew what it would do. Meaning, they aren't going to use it for anything other than moving her. They want as little damage to her as possible. They want to trade Callie for money, so they're going to keep her as safe and unharmed as they can. García, check for other crimes using chloroform."

"Radius and time span?" García jotting the phrase 'chloroform crimes' on a notepad next to her computer and looked at him.

"Everywhere in the past 30 years. Chloroform's rarely used anymore. And places that chloroform is still used today. They had to get it somewhere."

"Okay. That's next on my list, but thirty years for the entire country is going to take some time.

"The unsubs left the dog. That indicates that they don't have an interest in anything that won't hold monetary value," J.J. flipped through the police pictures of the car and Perses. "They don't think they could trade him so they just left him. Or maybe they didn't want the noise a dog Perses' size could produce. He barks really loudly – that would be a lot of attention they don't need or want. So they just ditched him."

"Perses wasn't supposed to be with her," Reid said as it dawned on him. "I didn't even think about it! He was being really clingy this morning. He didn't want either one of us to leave the house. He ran away with one of my shoes, he practically swallowed Calliope's keys. We were afraid he was going to choke himself or puncture his trachea – it was why I was late. It was almost like he knew something bad was going to happen. So Calliope took him with her to Williamsburg to get him to behave. I'd completely forgotten. The unsubs didn't expect Calliope to have Perses with her because she wasn't supposed to."

"It changed up their game," Prentiss said, catching on to what Reid was saying. "They didn't intend for the police to get the letter. I'd be willing to bet they meant to grab her at This Century and let the curator find the letter, hoping she'd go straight to the Sellers. But Calliope made a detour at the convenience store _and_ she had a large dog with her. They had to speed up their plan because a barking dog would be more noticeable outside an art gallery than it would be in a residential neighborhood."

"Where is Perses?" Reid asked, looking at García.

"He's fine. The police took him to Dahlia. That's where we're setting up a command post. The Sellers need to be home. That's where the note says the unsubs are going to call. A helicopter is waiting at the tarmac to take us directly there. What kind of system does Dahlia have?" García asked, turning away from her computer to glance at Reid.

"It's impressive. Their security system rivals anything I've seen in any government building. I don't understand any of it, but they should have everything you'll need plus some."

"Fantastic," García said, turning back to her computer. "Ok, I've got some stuff for you, SuperFriends."

"SuperFriends?" Prentiss looked up, confused.

"Oh, come on. SuperFriends? Only the most awesome slash hysterical superhero cartoon ever created? Brought together Wonder Woman, Superman, Batman and Robin, and Aquaman all in one cartoon? Ugh, you guys are completely hopeless. Anyways! Our masked monster of the moment numbero uno is – why is no one writing this down?" Rossi picked up his blue pen and started scribbling as García went on.

"Alrightie. Creepy Callie Catcher number one – the one who grabbed Calliope – is five feet nine inches tall. My software puts him weighing roughly one ninety to two ten, but that isn't completely definite because he's wearing baggy cloths. Shoe size is ten. The clothing makes it impossible to get anything more for him. However, thankfully for us, Creepy Callie Catcher number two – the driver – was not so smart in his clothing choice and I've got way more information. This guy is six five – freakishly tall. He weighs between two forty and two forty five. His hoodie is really formfitting and, guys, this dude is all muscle. He's built like a tree. Size eleven shoe. Guys, as much as I don't want to say it…"

"If this guy decides to change his mind and just takes Cal, she doesn't stand a chance," Morgan finished.

"That just means we have to find her before he can change his mind." Rossi said.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The blades of the helicopter whirred violent above them as the team gingerly climbed out onto the lush green lawn to the left of the hauntingly beautiful plantation home. Sometimes, when he and Calliope came here, it felt like stepping back in time or transporting into a different universe. Now, as Reid looked around, it just felt like he'd jumped out of the elevator straight into Hell.

Morgan was the last out of the elevator. He stayed behind and handed García's heavy equipment bags down to Hotch before jumping out after them. Each member of their team shouldered one of García's bags as well as their own go-bag before walking away from the helicopter and towards the building. Calliope's entire family, sans Eli and Isaac, were standing at the top of the marble steps watching them.

"You'll be able to catch the men who took my Callie, won't you, Spencer?" Dr. Sellers eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot as he hugged the lean profiler like a son as soon as the team reached the top of the stairs.

"Yes. We're getting Calliope back," Reid said firmly, offering Brenda Sellers a curt nod in hello.

"You did this." She snarled at him as a return to his hello.

"Brenda, stop it." Ben commanded, his voice wavering.

"Ms. Sellers, Reid has nothing to do with your granddaughter being taken," Hotch assured her. "Dr. Sellers, Ms. Sellers, I'm Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, Reid's superior. This is SSAs Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jeauru – J.J., David Rossi, Emily Prentiss and our technical analyst and expert in everything computer oriented Penelope García. I'm pretty sure you met all of us briefly at your New Years Eve party last year and at Callie's birthday party."

"Yes, I remember all of you. Uh, this is Mark and Ashley Gregg, their two daughters, Breelyn and Ashanti. And Joseph and Rachel Berton. Jill and Steven are trying to get a flight out of Detroit. Keely and Trisha are somewhere – Oh, here they are. Thank – thank you for coming."

"Of course. Callie's family. Do you have a place where we can set up? We need to debrief you both and all of the officers here with what we know already."

"What do you know?"

"We know that Callie was taken because of who she is. The ransom letter makes that quite clear. The unsubs – unknown subjects – kidnapped our Callie because they want money. We doubt if they even know about Reid."

"Don't call her _your Callie_. You don't know anything about her. She's not your team's Callie. She's Ben and mine."

"Brenda, so help me, if you get –" Ben started.

"You and your team got our baby kidnapped! Having her targeted by a psychopath wasn't enough for you? You had to go and get her kidnapped!"

"Ms. Sellers." J.J. spoke just loud enough and with just enough authority to get the woman's attention. "If the unsubs knew about Spence, they would have said not to contact the FBI instead of just warning you against contacting the police," she explained. "If they knew about Spence, they might never have even taken her."

"Ms. Sellers, besides Derek, Calliope's my best friend," García said softly, wiping her eyes, as Morgan squeezed her shoulders.

"What does the letter say? The police wouldn't let us read it until you were here."

Rossi had just opened his mouth to suggest they sit down when a loud thud made the team spin around, Hotch and Morgan with their guns drawn in instinct. Laughing in relieve, the team saw Reid knocked to the marble floor with Perses standing on top of his chest, licking his face over and over.

"I'm glad to see you too, Pers, but you're crushing my ribs," Reid told the dog as he attempted to push him off. Holstering his gun, Morgan grabbed Perses by the collar and pulled the dog away, letting Reid stand up before he let go of the collar. Perses rushed to Reid, wagging his tail and whining miserably, and Reid squatted down to scratch the dog behind his ear and kiss the top of his head. "Okay. Come here, you. Yeah, you've had a rough day, haven't you? Miss your Mommy? Me too, Perses, me too."

"He's been acting stressed out since the police brought him here," Ben told him. "He's been going around the house collecting everything that smells remotely like Callie and piling it in the dining room where we are. If anybody tries to go near it, he growls and barks like mad."

"I would too, if I watched my mommy be snatched while I barked my head off in the car," García said, scratching Perses as well. "Where can I set up, Dr. Sellers? Do you have extension cords and power strips?"

"Um, Angela…? Angela? Brenda, where's Angela?"

"I'm over here, Dr. Sellers," a teary-eyed maid Spencer knew relatively well stepped forward. "Where should I take Ms. García?"

"Help her set up in the The White Room. Kevin should be finished setting up tables. Have him get whatever you need."

"Yes, sir," Angela nodded and walked away, obviously expecting García to follow her. Morgan grabbed the heavier two of García's bags, but García didn't move yet. Instead, she took a few steps towards Ben Sellers and wrapped her arms around his neck. Ben looked startled for half a second before hugging the gothically dressed woman tightly.

"We're going to get her back, Dr. Sellers," she whispered. "We're going to get her back.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Hello, this is Jennifer Jareau with the Department of Defense," J.J. stood off in the corner while the rest of the team finished setting up in the middle of the large white ballroom. "Your station has been running security camera footage of the abduction of a young woman. Yes. Well, you need to take it down. Yes, I understand you paid for the tape, but that tape is part of an undergoing investigation and airing it puts the woman's life in danger. No, I cannot confirm the identity of the woman just yet."

"García, you have everything you need?" Morgan asked as he opened his own file and glanced at J.J. over in the corner. They needed her now more than they had ever needed her. This was the highest profile case their team had ever been called to and, now that he had a second to think about it, he had no idea how they were excepting to work it without her.

"Sure do, Sugar. Let's get this son of a bitch."

"Dr. Sellers, Ms. Sellers, if you come over here for a minute, we're going to go over the ransom note with you," Hotch motioned for Calliope's grandparents to join the team. "We know that Callie isn't in any immediate danger."

"How do you know?" Brenda asked through tight lips.

"They want to trade her," Rossi handed them the note in its protective plastic cover, "for two hundred million dollars."

"What do we do?" Ben spoke this time.

"If we do what they want, the general trend is that the hostage will be returned," Prentiss told them.

"We, we have the money," Ben rubbed his temples. "But it's more complicated then that. We don't just keep it all in one bank. It's all, all tied up in different places. I – I – I… I, uh, I have to get a hold of–"

"Dr. Sellers, please, calm down," Morgan stood up and offered him a chair. "They aren't going to hurt Cal. Physically, she is as safe as any hostage could possibly be. Probably safer. Because she's worth something to them. If they let something happen to her or if they hurt her, they risk what they really want – their payoff. The ransom."

"What we're going to do," Hotch spoke up once both Ben and Brenda were seated, "is have a press conference."

"They said they'd call," Brenda snapped at him. "We can't leave here."

"That's why we're having the press conference here, Ms. Sellers," Rossi told her. "We won't take you away from Dahlia.

"But she's not missing," Ben whispered. "She's not lost. What good will a press conference do?"

"We won't be talking just to people who might have seen something," J.J. walked up. "We're going to be talking to the unsubs, to the men who have Callie."

"These unsubs will be obsessively watching the news," Reid explained. "They have to make sure that they're safe."

"What are we going to say?"

"I'll be doing most of the talking. You, Ms. Sellers and Spence will be up there with me. Nothing is going to be unscripted. We'll go over exactly what you're supposed to say. You won't have to answer questions, I'll do that. All you have to do if get up there and say what we've worked out."

Brenda looked furious, but didn't say anything. Ben, however, nodded.

"We need a picture for the press conference," J.J. told them.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The fight over what picture to use broke out almost as soon as they started looking for one. Brenda had pulled from the library a large framed picture of Calliope in a beautiful white dress that had been taken the week before her coming out. García had, on the other hand, printed out at least a dozen pictures that had been taken in the last few months.

"Ms. Sellers, we really do need to pick from the most recent sampling of pictures," Hotch's voice was strained as he tried to reason with the woman.

"That picture is eleven years old," Morgan reminded her. "Cal doesn't look like that anymore."

"Yes, she does," Brenda insisted. "She just has those stupid strips in her hair now."

"We need those strips in the picture."

"Callie was sixteen in that picture."

"This is the picture we should use! This is the best picture of Callie!"

"Will you shut up already?" Reid snapped, standing up and yelling at Brenda. "Do you seriously think you're the only one in the room who loves Calliope? The only one who lost her? The only one who wants her back? Wake up, Brenda. Everyone in this room loves her as much as if not more than you do."

"No one loves Callie as much as I do," she sneered.

"Oh please. You don't even know her."

"How dare you!"

"Why do you think she moved away from Dahlia? You think it's really to run The Hobbit Hole? Please. She could run it from anywhere. She moved to Fredericksburg to get away from you. She spent her entire life in Williamsburg and at Washington and Lee trying to be somebody she's not, somebody she never even wanted to be.

"She loves you so much that she did everything she could to make sure she never disappointed you, and, when she couldn't do that, she went to study at the Florence Academy of Art. Calliope went all the way to Italy to be able to be herself. She never wanted to be the figurehead of Dahlia. She wants more than what _you _decided she should have or should be. Calliope spent all of her high school years going to cotillions and coming out parties in frilly white dresses she hated, going to DAR meetings, playing bridge, and being a proper young lady. To make you happy. Not because she wanted to."

"Spence…" J.J. made to intervene, but Ben held up a hand to stop her, letting the fight steamroll on on it's own path.

"You don't know anything about Callie or what she likes or doesn't like."

"I don't know anything about Calliope? Really? Is that honestly what you think? Okay then, let's think about what I don't know about Calliope. I don't know that it doesn't matter how many times or how loudly you yell her name when she's painting, she won't hear you. I don't know that she snores only when she's dreaming. I don't know that she obsessively cleans the stainless steel, because fingerprints drive her crazy. I don't know that she loves Agent Hotchners' son Jack like she's his real aunt. I don't know that purposefully graduated college after three years instead of four so she could move to Florence and study, not because they wouldn't hold her spot a year like she told you, but because she had to get away from your expectations.

"I don't know that she prefers Head and Shoulders shampoo. I don't know that her greatest fear is disappointing the people she loves. I don't know that when she was sixteen she told you she was going to a Daughters of the DAR weekend, but she really went to a what she calls a 'hippie' art convention. I don't know that Calliope and García go to breakfast every other Saturday and Calliope always brings home three extra cinnamon buns – two of which she eats in the car. I don't know that she hid her diaries in her bedroom under the floorboards beneath her bed when she lived here. I don't know that she only joined the Kappa Kappa Gammas because you wanted her to. And I don't know that her favorite song while she was in Florence was 'Overprotected' by Britney Spears, because she related to the lyrics. Thankfully she has stopped listening to Britney Spears since then.

"I don't know that Emeline is the single most important thing in this entire world to her. I don't know that Calliope would give up everything if she could have Emeline.

"What don't you know about her, Brenda? Because, from where I'm standing, you're the one who doesn't know anything about Calliope. You think _this_ is Calliope? This posed doll in frilly dresses is your idea of Calliope, of who she _should_ be, but that's not Calliope. That's not who she _wants_ to be. She hates this idea of her. She ran as fast as she could without hurting you. _This_ is Calliope," Spencer grabbed the few pictures García had printed out, putting them in front of the framed picture of her coming-out. "Bright colours, mix-matched clothing, art deco jewelry, dyed hair, converse, peasant skirts, tank tops, boots, jeans, paint on her face. _This_ is Calliope."

"You've changed her! You took our perfect Callie and turned her into –"

"I haven't turned her into anything! I fell in love with her the way she is, the way she wants to be. Calliope was never perfect and will never be perfect, but she tried harder than anything to be perfect for you because that's what you wanted of her. I love Calliope for who she is. You should try loving her for who is and who she wants to be rather than who you deem her to be."

"You - you ruined our family."

"I haven't done anything to your family, Brenda. You did. You pushed Calliope away with your expectations. If you had let her be whom she wanted to be instead of pushing her into a mold you thought she belonged in, she'd probably still be living in Williamsburg. But she was so terrified of disappointing you, she left so she could let you continue thinking she was who you thought she should be. Technically, you're not even part of the family – you're just a glorified nanny who fused into the family through tragedy!"

"I am part of this family! I am a Sellers! But you! You'll never be part of this family!"

"I don't care about being part of the Sellers family! I never have. I didn't even know she was part of this family until I'd been dating her for three months. All I care about is Calliope."

"You don't belong with her. You don't deserve Callie! You aren't good enough for her! You'll never be good enough for her!"

"Maybe not. Maybe I'm not good enough for her, but she chose me! She came up to me, not the other way around. You don't have a say in my relationship with Calliope. It's not your relationship. It's mine and it's hers. You don't have to like me. I've stopped caring if you approve of me or not and I doubt she ever did. But I am in Calliope's life. I love her and I'm going to be around for a long time, so it'd be in your best interest for you to move on." Spencer turned abruptly and walked out of the room towards the library. After some silent foaming, Brenda stalked into the kitchen.

"Dr. Sellers, I apologize on behalf of Agent Reid and this team. Reid was out of line," Hotch started but Ben waved away his apology.

"That wasn't an agent yelling at a victims' family member. That was a boyfriend finally snapping and yelling at his girlfriends' grandmother. I've been waiting for this for two years. It's about time he didn't take her bullshit anymore. You shouldn't be apologizing. I should be. For Brenda's terrible behavior. Spencer's right. Brenda has her idea of what's best for Callie, but doesn't realize how much that's not who Callie wants to be. She loves our granddaughter more than anything, that's all. Brenda's too stubborn and Calliope's too afraid of hurting her. That's why, when she asked for the money to go to Florence, I gave it to her. She wasn't supposed to have access to the Sellers bank accounts until she was thirty-five. But I love her, so I let her go. I let her be free."

* * *

**A/N:**

**We move on Wednesday, but I go back up to school today. This morning I was sitting in my family room in Mum's Easy Chair, watching Criminal Minds (1x08 "Natural Born Killer"), writing _Mystery Muse_ and looking out at my backyard. Watching the waterfalls in the pool and the wind blow the pear trees and these two bluejays that live in the pear tree above the bird bath that never has water in it and the whole time all I was really thinking was "I'm never going to sit here again. I'm never going to come home again, not here anyways. I'm never going to sleep in my bedroom or turn into my cul-de-sac or sit in Dad's office when I miss him or listen to the brothers make it sound like the house is going to fall down when they're playing video games. I grew up here. All my memories are here. I can tell you where it was that the repairman fell threw my ceiling, where I fell out of the attic after I accidently got trapped up there when I was eight, where my favourite hiding spots where, where we took pictures for graduation, where everything happened. And I'm never coming back here again. I'm never going to sit in my bedroom like I'm doing right now and watch people walk their dogs. Not exactly in a happy frame of mind right now, so sorry. No funny quips or jokes or hyperness today. I'm just gonna go.**

**Thanks for reading. I hope you liked it.**

**Love, Thalia**


	47. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_"I'll tell you a secret. Something they don't teach you in your temple. The Gods envy us. They envy us because we're mortal, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again." – Homer_

o o o o

15 September, 2010

Calliope's wrists throbbed from how tightly the wire dug into her flesh. Her nose stung and her eyes watered from the awful smell that permeated wherever she was. Her throat stung raw from yelling and even speaking softly burned her throat. Tugging her hands futilely, she cursed the fact that she couldn't tell how long she'd been down here. At least, she thought it was 'down here.' It smelt like a basement, musty. And it had that chill she always associated with basements or cellars.

A door closed somewhere above her and she felt a burst of hope surge through her, but fear replaced it almost immediately.

"Hello?" Calliope whispered at first and her throat seared. "Hello! Help!"

The footsteps stopped and Calliope shouted again. This time the footsteps were quick and heavy, running. The door directly above her opened loudly and she knew she was in a basement when she heard the footsteps on stairs.

"Hello?" A male's voice called out and the footsteps paused. "What the hell? Are you – God. Just a second. I'm coming. Just hold on."

Calliope tried to thank the man, but couldn't get the words through the tight knot in her throat. She was getting out. She was going to be okay. She was getting out. The skin on his fingers was rough against her cheeks as he pulled the cloth from around her eyes.

"Callie!" The man jumped back in what seemed like terrified shock and dropped the rag to the floor.

"How do you know my name?" Calliope was scared now. She didn't know this man. She didn't know him at all, but he knew her name. "Please, don't hurt me."

"I won't. I promise. Who brought you here?"

"I don't know. How do you know my name?" Calliope asked again, looking into his eyes this time and gasping. They were her eyes. Just like hers. "Who are you?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Morgan watched from the sidelines as J.J. stood behind the podium and spoke into a mass of microphones clamped to the wood. He'd never seen a press crowd this large before. The usual entities were represented, yes – major networks and local channels, major and local newspapers – but he hadn't been prepared for the gossip magazines to show up.

What the hell was _People_ doing here? Or _E! Entertainment_? What did they think this was? This was serious, his friend's life was in danger and they just treated it was something to play before a segment of which self-absorbed starlet wore it better or to pad a gossip rag between pictures of those three sisters with a reality show and an article about how Jen still couldn't get over Brad.

This was _real_. This wasn't some ploy for publicity. Calliope wouldn't want her face or name in news even for this, much less plastered across the cover of every magazine at the end of checkout counters at supermarkets. Not that any of them really cared what Calliope wanted, they just wanted to make their deadlines with the hottest news.

"I'm so glad I don't have to do that," García whispered and Morgan nodded in agreement.

"Me too, Penelope. Me too."

"You're gonna get her back, right?"

"Baby Girl, we are going to get Cal back," Morgan told her seriously. "We're going to bring her home."

"What'll happen to Reid if we don't get her back? Derek, we'd loose Reid forever. I don't think he'd ever come back from loosing Luce this way. I mean, I know Hotch is okay after Haley, well, sort of. Maybe, but I don't think he's really faced it yet and y-yo-you can't even–"

"Penelope, breathe," Morgan pulled her away, around the corner of the house and out of view of the media. "Take a deep breath. You're hyperventilating. It's going to be okay, everyone's okay. Reid's okay, I'm okay, Hotch is okay, Rossi and Prentiss and J.J. – everyone is okay. And we're going to get Cal back. We're not going to loose her or Reid."

"She's my best friend," García started crying and Morgan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"I know, Penelope," Morgan kissed the top of her head. "I know."

"Whoever took Calliope didn't look at who she is. Calliope… she's not just an heiress. She's a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a niece. She's a friend, an aunt. She's a part-time legal guardian of her nephew. She a girlfriend… She's the mother of a beautiful three year old daughter. We just want Calliope home," Reid's voice wafted through the speakers and Morgan closed his eyes.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Splashing water on his face, Spencer looked up at himself in the mirror. He barely recognized the person staring back at him. Two years ago, he'd been a completely different person that who he was right now and he liked this person better. Before he met Calliope, he never realized how… how unbalanced he was. She righted him, balanced him out; as cliché as it sounded, she completed him. He wasn't right without her, wasn't whole. He needed her.

A recognizable knock on the bathroom door broke through his thoughts and he reached for the hand towel.

"Just a second, Rossi."

"You okay, kid?" Dave asked as Spencer exited the bathroom. "It's okay if you're not, Reid. You don't have to do this, you know. Maybe you should sit this one out."

"I have to do this," he disagreed. "Hotch understands."

"I bet he does. Wait a second, Reid. There's someone you need to talk to."

"Rossi, they should be calling soon. We need to get–"

"Kid, I've been doing this longer than you've been alive. Just trust me," Dave steered Spencer towards the library where he could see Brenda sitting hunched over on an old couch. "Go talk to her."

"What? No. I don't have time to deal with her."

"Reid, what you two had back there, it might have been needed, but that was no Kodak moment."

"We have to get ready for them to call."

"We will. You go talk to Brenda. We need you two on the same team, Reid. The rest of us will get ready for them to call," Dave nudged him into the library and gave him a 'go on' expression when Spencer opened his mouth to protest.

With a sigh of resignation, Spencer walked into the library. Dave waited until Spencer was within Brenda's line of sight before turning and heading back towards the White Room.

"Brenda?"

"What?" Her tone attempted as harsh and callous, but only managed tearful and broken.

"May I sit?" Spencer waited until she nodded before sitting in a wing chair across the coffee table from her. "I… I need to apologize for earlier. When I said you were just the nanny – that was wrong. I know it's not true and I apologize."

"Not for the rest?" Brenda asked without looking at him. At another time, Spencer might have thought she was being antagonistic, but right now she just looked defeated. He'd never seen her look this old or exhausted. He knew Brenda was ninety-two, but he'd never seen her _look_ ninety-two. This morning aged her at least a decade and her frailty almost made him regret snapping at her.

"No," Spencer shook his head. "I meant what I said. Except for the nanny part, I meant everything I said. It could have had a better setting, but I meant everything. I love Calliope. Very much. She's my world. Her and Emeline. I don't like seeing Calliope hurt and your disapproval of her choices hurts her."

"Callie is my entire life," Brenda finally looked at him and he could see the tear stains across her cheeks. "I raised her, I stayed up with her at night when she couldn't sleep through the night, I held her hands when she had the chicken pox so she wouldn't scratch, I taught her to walk, to read, to write. I read her stories at bedtime, kissed her goodnight, tip-toed into her room at night to check on her.

"You love your little Emeline, don't you, Dr. Reid?"

"So much it hurts."

"You would die for her?"

"Yes."

"She doesn't look anything like you."

"No, she doesn't," Spencer didn't understand what Brenda was saying.

"But she's still your daughter. She's still your little girl."

"Of course she is."

"Callie's my Emeline. She's my daughter, my only little girl. I've been the nanny. I was Henry and Sarah's nanny. Orlando's and Demi's and little Rose. I wasn't Callie's nanny. I'm her mom. I was where she ran when she had a nightmare or didn't get picked for kickball. She was terrible at kickball. No foot-eye coordination," Brenda blew her nose. "But when I went in for parent-teacher conferences or took her to the Mother-Daughter tea party, people stared, said I wasn't her mother.

"People don't think you, Callie and Emeline are strange. Adopting children from other countries is so commonplace now, but before… no one would accept without question that I was Callie's mother. To the world, I was just her nanny."

"Calliope loves you. When she mentions her mom, she's talking about you. That's all that should matter."

"That _is_ all that matters."

"Then I don't understand," Spencer leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"She's my only little girl. My only child," Brenda reached for a new tissue, this time to whip her eyes. "I want my little girl home."

"We're going to bring her home," Spencer said, almost more to himself than to the woman he spoke to.

"No," she disagreed. "She'll stay here for a little while and then go back to Fredericksburg."

"That's where we live."

"But it's not her home. This is her home. This is where she belongs."

"She doesn't want to live here, Brenda. She likes Fredericksburg. She likes just being normal. She doesn't want to live in the spotlight like she would if she lived here."

"I remember the morning she was born. She had these wispy tufts of red curls and the brightest eyes I'd ever seen. And she wouldn't sleep. After the first hour, she didn't cry either. She just lay there staring at everyone staring at her. She knew everyone was there to see her and she loved it. She seemed to revel in being the center of attention and she wasn't even a full day old. The night Henry and Hannah and Orlando, Demi and Rose died, I went into the nursery and watched her sleep. They were gone, but she was still there. I was crying, I assumed that's what woke her up, and she started crying too. I went and picked her up, sat down in the rocking chair and rocked her back and forth. And she just looked at me. Blinked her eyes at me, snuggled down and went back to sleep. It was like she said, 'Okay, Mammy. You can be my mom.' It's been that way her entire life. She's always smiled back at me and let me be her mom."

"She didn't _let_ you be her mom," Spencer shook his head. "You brought her up. You raised her since before she can remember any differently. She loves you as a mother because you've always treated her like she's your daughter."

"No," Brenda shook her head. "She could have told me to stop trying to take Hannah's place or–"

"Calliope doesn't want Hannah when she wants her mom. She wants you. That's not because she's choosing you over Hannah. It's because you were the one there when she grew up. You wants you as her mom because you've always been her mom. She's never had to want or miss Hannah. She's always had a mom. She's always had you."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I love your daughter. I never wanted to be your enemy."

"I just always hoped that if she fell for a man in Williamsburg, she'd come home again."

"And then I showed up. Everything you didn't want for her."

"No," Brenda sighed. "I… you… Dr. Reid–"

"Spencer."

"Spencer, then… You weren't the problem. You're a good person, a much better person than I. You make Callie happy," Brenda paused and stared at the wadded up tissues in her lap, "but your job terrifies me. We already have to let Eli and Isaac go and just pray that God watches over them and they come home safely. You leave whenever your phone rings and all Callie can do is worry. What's going to happen to Callie if you don't come home one day?"

"Do you honestly think I haven't thought about that?" Spencer looked down at his hands. "I've tried to leave my job, but Calliope won't even discuss it with me. She doesn't want me to quit the BAU. She threatened to beat me with a frying pan if I kept bringing it up. Then she said she'd leave me if I quit."

Brenda laughed a little and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "That sounds like Callie. Too hardheaded for her own good."

A tinny version of Beethoven's Symphony Number Nine came from Spencer's pocket and he pulled the phone out. Looking down, he sighed. Emeline's name blinked at him and he knew he couldn't ignore her calls anymore. He didn't know what to say to her. He didn't know what to say when she asked why her maman wasn't picking up the phone or why he sounded so sad.

"Hi, Princess."

_ "Poppy doesn't love Emeline anymore," the usually happy voice wailed._

"Poppy loves Emeline very, very much. More than the whole world."

_ "I want my Poppy," Emeline sniffed and stuck her bottom lip out._

"I know, Princess. Maman and I are going to come see you again as soon as we can. And you're going to come here to see us over Thanksgiving, remember?"

_ "And I can see Gran'pa again!"_

"Yes, you do. And you get to meet Grandma too."

_ "Does Gran'ma like me?"_

"Grandma loves you, silly. She loves you almost as much as Maman and I," Spencer teased. "Do you want to talk to Grandma? She's right next to me." Brenda looked up in surprise when Spencer handed over the phone with his awkward, thin-lipped smile. "She wants to talk to her Grandma."

"Me?" Brenda looked surprised, but took the phone with trembling fingers and lifted it to her ear. "Emeline? Hi, Angel. It's… it's Grandma."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"What the hell did you do?" A dark haired man came bounding down the stairs as the redhead with her eyes searched in the metal drawers for wire cutters. "Kaden, are you insane?"

"Am _I _insane?" The redheaded man, Kaden, asked incredulously and looked up. "Am _I_ insane? What the hell did _you_ do, Marty? Did you abduct her? Are you crazy? We have to let her go. Where are the wire cutters?"

"We're not getting the wire cutters, Kaden," Marty shook his head slowly. "We're getting the money she owes you."

Calliope had no idea what was going on. "What are you talking about? What money?"

"Shut the hell up!" Marty spat at her and Calliope's eyes widened. No one had ever spoken to her that way and hearing it now was almost more of a shock to her system than the predicament she found herself in.

"We have to let her go," Kaden insisted and Marty hit him so hard he fell over, blood leaking from the corner of his eye.

"We're not letting her go, you fucking idiot. You can get with us or join her. Your choice. But you better choose quick."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"If she has a chance, she'll fight back," Morgan said, reading the ransom note for what felt like the billionth time, trying to find something they might have missed. "Hell hath no fury."

"Like a woman scorned?" J.J. finished the quote with a confused expression.

"No," Morgan chuckling slightly, clinging to the only semi-cheerful thought he could generate today. "Hell hath no fury like Calliope Sellers. I think it's the redhead thing."

"When are they going to call?" Ben asked, nervously. The terrified man hadn't stopped pacing for longer than two minutes and he wasn't stopping now. His pacing was so systematic by now that Perses paced right along with him.

"Mr. Sellers, we need you to sit down and try to relax. You're going to have to talk on the phone when they call and we need you as relaxed as possible," Prentiss stood next to him and placed a hand on his arm. "They're doing this to put you on edge."

"Well, it's working very well," Ben sighed and bent down to pat Perses' head. Looking up as Reid and Brenda walked into the room, Reid pocketing his cell phone and Brenda wiping her eyes with a worn tissue, Ben smiled in what felt like the first time in decades. While he wasn't anticipating they would hold hands and skip any time soon, they seemed to have reached a truce, a cease-fire, if only for this moment in time. But something inside him, that voice in his heart he'd long grown used to, whispered for him to have faith.

_Be still and know that I am God._ Ben felt the verse from Psalms more than he heard it. Closing his eyes, he took a breath. Who was he to tell God what could or could not happen? God could do whatever He wanted. He could heal Brenda's heart and the wounds between her and Spencer. If that was what He wanted. He could bring Callie back safely, if that's what He planned. Nothing was impossible to Him. Ben had long had proof of that and he had no reason to doubt now.

Ben didn't open his eyes yet. He needed another second to himself. He needed to finish collecting himself so that he wouldn't be so completely paralyzed by fear that he couldn't do anything. Callie, his precious little Callie would be okay. Taking her couldn't possibly be in God's plans. It just couldn't. And Ben couldn't let himself go down that road. God wouldn't let her live only to take her away later.

"Daddy?"

Ben looked up, opening his eyes, and almost expected to see Calliope standing there. His heart leapt and fell at the same time, possibly the most unsettling sensation he'd ever experienced, as Sarah floated gracefully across the room to his arms.

"Kiddo," Ben whispered, engulfing his daughter in a tight hug.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope fought against the scabbed hands restraining her head as Marty layered duct tape over her eyes. Twisting her head quickly, she bit down on the hand before the man had a chance to react. Flesh stayed between her teeth, ripping away from the hand as the man jerked away from the pain, inadvertently causing himself more.

"Fucking bitch!" He shouted in anguish and punched her across the face, the ornate ring on his hand splitting open her bottom lip. Marty ripped the tape and slapped the side of her head to pat it down. Calliope felt the chair jerk beneath her from the force of Marty's slap, but, somehow, it stayed beneath her without capsizing.

She spit the skin from her mouth and coughed out some blood from her mouth. She could feel the blood land on her thighs and tried not to throw up. Dating Spencer for two years and the thought of blood still made her queasy. Some things there were no cures for.

Spencer… What would happen to him if she died? Or her baby girl? What would Spencer tell Emeline about why Maman suddenly never called her again? Emeline would never understand that Maman went to work one day and just never came back. And Jack… he needed her. She promised him she wasn't going to go where Haley was and she didn't know what was going to be happening in the next five minutes.

"Let me go," Calliope summoned every ounce of authority she had and issued the command. "Let me go and I won't press charges."

"Shut up, you stupid girl," the man who's hand she'd bitten snapped at her.

"They're going to find you," her voice grew stronger as her family's faces floated through her mind, each face sharpening before moving to the next one. Aaron, hard and seemingly unyielding, but concern waited just under the steely exterior. J.J., soft, caring and unwavering in her dedication to her family. Dave, a father figure, always the first to offer guidance but willing and ready to step back and let a person find out for themselves. Emily, willful and confident, the first one to the defensive when someone she loves was in danger. Derek, strong and loving, and so fixed on justice, so much like a big brother watching his younger sisters and brothers from the sidewalk while they played kickball in the street. Penelope, outgoing, vibrant and prone to overwhelming emotion, mama grizzly one moment and wounded puppy the next. And her Spencer… her wonderful, tender Spencer. He was the man who loved her unwaveringly despite her numerous flaws, standing beside her and holding her hand through everything. He woke her up in the morning with gentle kisses, laughed with and at her throughout the day, sat with her when she needed comfort, cheered her through her insecurities, and cuddled her close while she fell asleep. He was her confidant, her friend, her strength and her weakness, her entire heart.

"They're going to find you," she said again, her voice stronger than before, with more conviction. "You picked the wrong person to abduct. They're going to find you, they're going to catch you and you will be–"

Another slap across the face stopped her for a moment, but Calliope gritted her teeth and kept going.

"There's not a chance you'll get away with this," Calliope knew she was antagonizing them, but she refused to stop. Two years ago, she would have been scared out of her mind, but right now she felt calm. Her family would get her back. They knew what do to, they would find her and she would go home. She refused to think about the other option any longer, because that would require thinking about, not what would happen to _her_, but what would happen to her family. If she was gone, what would happen to Emeline and Jack, Aaron, Penelope, Derek, J.J. and Emily and Dave… Spencer. And her parents. The two people who gave up their own lives to take care of her. What would happen to them if she was found looking like one of those pictures of discarded victims Spencer brought home in the manila FBI files he locked in the drawer in his office? What would happen if the next time some saw her she was lying face down in a ditch off a farm road towards central Virginia or floating in a river mouth leading to the Atlantic?

"S-she's right," Kaden's voice was timid from where he had been shoved in the corner.

"And why is that? You think some fucking cops are smarter than we are, Kad? You've always been the dumb one."

Kaden mumbled something about the FBI and Calliope smirked, ignoring the pain from her mouth and the blood still dripping from where it spilled down her chin to her pale pink Blondie t-shirt.

"My boyfriend works for the FBI as a behavioural analyst. He's paid to study, track down and catch pathetic invertebrates like you."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"If you really want, we can pull a few strings and get into an MCAT," Hotch told Ashley and Mark, but Ben shook his head.

"No. Eli and Isaac do _not _need to know about this. Not until it's absolutely necessary. They have enough they need to focus on. I don't want anything to make them loose their focus and could result in carelessness."

"Ben's right," Morgan agreed. "Everyone over there's playing Russian Roulette already. We don't need to up their odds. Not yet, anyways. They're better off in the dark for now. We will tell them… if we have to."

Ashley nodded and squeezed Sarah's. Sarah squeezed back. The two had grown up as best friends and always returned to their familiar patterns once they were together.

The team had exhausted every possible conversation relating to the case, every possible way the unsubs could have found their way into Calliope's life, every possible way to track the unsubs, everything they could think of. But they were stuck. There was nowhere left to go without new information. It had been three hours since the press conference. They watched the sun go down through the huge picture windows as they waited. Waiting was their only option until the unsubs called. They needed new information. They couldn't move forward without it.

Derek hated waiting more than he hated anything in the world. Okay. There was one person he hated more than waiting, but it was a very close race. He wanted, _needed_, to be doing something. Waiting drove him crazy. He'd been waiting for almost nine years for the one that mattered most to him. He wasn't going to wait nine years to get this one.

Emily looked at the clock on her cell phone and sighed. Calliope was out there somewhere and they had nothing. She'd watched the video of her abduction at least fifty times and every time she came away with exactly what she had before – nothing. Not a single thing. Subconsciously, she reached up and touched the silver heart pendant around her neck, the one Eli had given her right before he boarded the aircraft with his brother and the rest of the Marines headed to God knew where over in the Middle East. He'd asked her to wait for him. She had smiled, kissed him and told him he had to come home so she could find out if she really was falling in love with him. Ever since, Emily had been waiting for a call from one of his parents or siblings or Calliope telling her Eli had been wounded. She hadn't expected to be sitting here waiting to find out whether or not his cousin was all right or not.

The phone rang.

Everyone's head jerked to the center of the room and stared at the phone for a moment of disbelief before jolting into action.

"Wait–" J.J. cut off Ben before he could pick up the phone. "García, you ready?"

"I was born holding my keyboard, _mon amie_. Just keep the son of a bitch talking as long as friggin' possible," García nodded, fingers posed over her keyboard.

"Keep him talking about Callie," J.J. repeated what she'd told Calliope's grandfather several times. "If you don't know what to say, don't panic. Hotch will tell you what to say. Don't be accusatory, let him know that you know he made a mistake and it's not too late to fix it."

"We really need to answer the phone," Ben insisted.

"And we're about to," Rossi nodded, hitting the 'record' button. "Go."

"This is Ben Sellers."

_ "I have your daughter."_

"I… I know," Ben looked over to the legal pad in front of Hotch and read the phrase the unit chief pointed to. "Thank you for keeping her safe."

_ "Don't play dumb with me, man. You know what I want. You'll get her back when I receive two hundred million dollars in non-sequential, unmarked bills."_

"That's going to take a little while," Ben closed his eyes and took a breath. _Be still and know that I am God. _"But we can do that. I can get you the money. Just don't hurt my little girl."

_ "Daddy's are just so predictable," the man laughed._

Ben looked up at Hotch for direction and Hotch made a circular motion, indicating for Ben to keep the man talking.

_ "Always willing to do anything for their babies. Either that or what mine did."_

"What did yours do?" Ben asked without instruction.

_ "I want to talk to Dr. Reid. I saw him on the news. He's there, I assume."_

Reid got up and walked around the table, taking several deep breaths and calming himself. Taking Hotch's seat, he waited.

"He's here." With a glance at Hotch, Ben handed the phone to Reid.

"Dr. Reid here."

_ "Aren't father's predictable… Spencer?"_

"Good fathers are predictable in their ways, bad are predictable in others," Reid agreed, keeping the man talking as long as possible. He knew the longer the man talked, the better chance he would reveal something important, either about himself or about Calliope.

_ "Did you have a good father, Spencer? Or a bad one?"_

"I wasn't lucky enough to have a father like Ben Sellers."

_ "A victim of the absent father…"_

"Where you a victim? I'm sorry, you know my name, but I don't know yours."

_ "You don't need to know my name," the man said curtly, his conversational tone gone. "All you need to know is that I have your girlfriend. The mother of your little girl. So you damn well better do what I say. No one wants to have to tell their daughter they couldn't save her mom."_

"I want proof of life," Reid matched the man's tone, challenging him. He was an alpha male. He'd give the most visceral response if his authority were challenged – especially by a 'skinny pipe cleaner with eyes.' No alpha male would appreciate a challenge from him. "I want to talk to Calliope."

_ "You want to talk to her? Ten million more."_

Reid glanced at Hotch, who looked to Ben, who nodded. "Done." He could hear the man's footsteps. Wherever he was, the building was big enough and empty enough to create an echo. Motioning for a pen, he began scribbling on the legal pad.

'Echo.'

'Stairs – down? Heavier footsteps. Down.'

'Second voice. Male. Deep. Southern accent, thick. Tennessee.'

'Third voice. Male.'

'Calliope. Strong. Defiant.'

_ "I'll be listening."_

_ "Grandpa?"_

"No. Spencer. Everyone's with me. Are you okay?"

_ "I'm fine, Spencer. SWAT was worse."_

She was making jokes. Reid exhaled in relief. He knew it was a defense mechanism, but it still made him feel slightly better.

"Can you see anything?"

_ Calliope paused, searching for the right words. Words that would have some meaning without resulting in have the phone taken away. "No. I can't. My glasses fell off."_

Jotting down 'glasses – "fell"?,' Reid's brain whirred. She wasn't wearing her glasses. She was wearing her contacts. Why would she say she had dropped her glasses?

"That's okay. As long as your okay."

_ "String Bean, when you get home tonight, you have to let Perses out."_

Reid's brow furrowed for a moment before he realized. "Let him out?"

_ "Yeah. I-I think he got trapped again. Like last time. You have to check."_

'Perses trapped' went down on the pad and Reid kept listening.

_ "And don't forget to feed Adella and Charlotte the special food. The one for their coats and manes. Keeps them shiny."_

_ "She's hostage and giving a list of chores," the second man, the one from deep in Tennessee, sniggered. "Whipped. Completely whipped."_

_ "And stupid."_

"Adella and Charlotte. Okay. Anything else?"

_ "Yeah. Just one more – don't forget to take Esther to her obedience training this weekend. They're socializing this class. Teaching them to be friendly around other dogs. She needs that."_

"Okay." Reid's hand flew over the page so fast barely a quarter of what he wrote was legible, but that didn't matter. He knew what it said. "Calliope, I love you."

_ "I love you too, Baby. Tell Grandpa and Mammy I love them. And… and kiss Eme for me." Calliope's voice broke over mention of Emeline._

The pen paused and Reid deflated. He hadn't told Emeline and he was terrified he'd have to tell Emeline that she'd never talk to her Maman again, that he'd have to explain to Emeline how Hotch had explained to Jack and her mother had gone to live in Heaven and they would have to wait until they got to Heaven to see her again. He didn't think he could do that.

"I will, Sweetheart. Calliope, We're going to bring you home."

_ "I know, Spencer," Calliope's voice was strong again, void of any doubt. "I know you're going to get me home. You're the best. Hey!"_

_ There were sounds of the phone being ripped from her hand and Calliope shouting. "You got your proof of life, now I want my money."_

"You haven't told us how to give you the money," Reid pointed out calmly.

_ "Washington and Lee Campus. Lee Chapel. Leave the bags between the statue of Lee and the wall."_

"Where Calliope went to college. Did you go to Washington and Lee?"

_ There was a pause before an answer. "Yes."_

García immediately jumped on the answer before anyone could give her any instruction.

_ "It better be there by noon tomorrow. I want my share of the Sellers' money. If it's not there at noon tomorrow, she dies. And I really don't have to have to kill her."_

"You don't _have_ to kill her."

_ "Oh, but if I don't get my money, I do. She only lives if I get my money. If not, my little sister has to die."_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Emeline grabbed the purple crayon and scribbled on the picture of Cinderella absently. She didn't really want to be colouring. She wanted to talk to Maman, but Maman wasn't answering her phone and Poppy said she was at work and couldn't talk right now. But Maman always answered her calls, even when she was working.

Frowning, Emeline dropped the crayon. Pushing away from the table, she ran across the room and grabbed the sparkly, pink cell phone. She jabbed the two button and cradled the phone to her ear. It rang and rang and rang before going to the message Emeline hadn't heard until today.

_ "Hi, you've reached Calliope Sellers. I'm not able to answer the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Ow! Crap. Stupid table. Always stubbing my toe and– Beep."_

"Hi, Maman. I miss you. Why won't you talk to me? I love you, Maman."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Everyone was talking at once.

Reid couldn't think straight.

"Shut up," his words were quiet at first and only Ben and Hotch heard him. He raised his voice. "Everyone just shut up for a second!"

The room instantly quieted, every pair of eyes trained on him.

"I need you to just be quiet."

"Reid, the unsub just said–"

"I know what he said! But she was giving me clues, Morgan. I just need to figure them out."

"None of what she said made any sense," Keely shook her head, leaning against Trisha.

"No, it makes perfect sense. I just need to unravel it," Reid argued.

"But we have Perses. He's sitting right there," Breelyn pointed out.

"It's code! She couldn't say what she really wanted to say, so she tried to say it in a way that I would understand. She knew that I would know she was trying to do more than give me a list of chores. Besides, Esther can't go to obedience training. She's a damn horse!"

Brittnee Kuder started laughing. The museum curator had arrived an hour ago with a police escort and had been telling Prentiss exactly what had happened every day for the past week, giving details only she and Calliope knew, details that the unsubs would know if they had been watching Calliope getting ready for the exhibit opening.

"I'm glad our tragedy provides amusement," Ashanti said dryly.

"It's not my tragedy too?" Brittnee asked, wiping tears from her eyes. "I was her roommate in college. We went to high school together. I've known her almost all my life. Callie would be laughing right now."

"She would be," Ben nodded with a small smile. "The idea of Esther at obedience training would send her to the floor."

"She said that Perses was trapped and you needed to let him out," Morgan sat down across from Reid. "Was Perses ever trapped somewhere? It would have been something comical or scary, something you both would have remembered."

"He was trapped in the closet once. When he was a puppy."

"So Callie might be locked in a closet?"

"A closet big enough to fit three other people and create an echo?" Hotch questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Basement!" Reid exclaimed. "I heard him go down a flight of stairs. Perses got locked in the basement a month ago. We both went out. The basement was torn apart by the time we got back. He has her in a basement somewhere. She's underground. And I think she could see and now she can't."

"Why do you say that?" Rossi asked.

"She said her glasses fell off. She's wearing contacts. If your glasses fall off, you suddenly can't see. And she hesitated. She wanted to give me a heads up that she wasn't speaking literally."

"That means she's seen the unsubs."

"There were three men. Not just two," Prentiss pointed out. There were two in the video, but three on the tape.

"She talked about three horses. And their manes," Morgan glanced at Reid's chicken scratch. "I don't understand."

"All three horses are a different colour. Manes… that could be substituted for hair. Maybe she's trying to tell us a basic description," Reid stared on the page.

"Charlotte's brown, Adella's black and Esther's chestnut red," Joe spoke up. "I know every horse on Dahlia."

"So that means a brunette, a redhead and one with black hair. Callie's telling us there are three men. García, search–"

"Wait," Reid cut Rossi off. "It's more complicated than that. With Adella and Charlotte, it was just appearance. But Esther's different. Esther, she mentioned obedience training. Friendly socialization. I think one of them wasn't in on the plan. One of them wasn't involved in the kidnapping."

"She picked Esther, so that means the redhead, what? Tried to help her?"

"Maybe," Reid sighed. "Maybe."

"He said that, if we didn't give him the money, his 'little sister' would die…" Morgan ran a hand over his face. "Little sister? What the fuck is going on here?"

* * *

**A/N:**

**I highly suggest you read all the way to the end, because there's something really, really juicy at the end. :)**

**OOOOOOOOOHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYYY GOOOOODDDDD... It's been over a month since I updated... I AM SO EFFING SORRY! /sobs. In my defense, I kinda have a multitude of excuses. I shall list in them in order. 1. End of football season. 2. Thanksgiving. 3. Driving from school to home and back (an 11-12 hour roundtrip) six times in seven weeks. 4. Exhaustion (see 3). 5. Moving from house to apartment. 6. INVOLUNTARY MACSLAUGHTER. I KILLED FRAN. 7. Finals. 8. Packing up my apartment. 9. Driving home. 10. Exhaustion (see 5-9). 11. Doing literally **_**all**_** my family's shopping for Christmas presents and Christmas dinner - not an easy feat, let me tell you. 12. Exhaustion (see 11). 13. Emotional anguish over Criminal Minds (to be explained later). 14. CANUCKS ARE KICKING A**! 15. Leafs are getting their a** kicked. 16. Letters and care packages to my three soldiers stationed over in the Middle East. My boys are in secluded places that no one is privy too and they rarely get mail, so they're very close to my heart. 17. Exhaustion (see 1-16). 18. Complete lack of inspiration to write **_**Mystery Muse**_** due to 1-16.**

**Okay... firstly, number 13. "Emotional anguish over Criminal Minds." Ashley Seaver... I'm actually surprisingly objective about a new character. I mean, I know they fed us that toss about not replacing J.J., but, I'm sorry, anyone who actually believed that is a moron. I'm not mad that they're replacing her. I knew they were going to replace her. Do I want AJ Cook back as J.J.? Yes. Of course I do. Am I holding my breath? No. I know she's gone and I know they're going to replace her. What I'm annoyed about is the character they chose to replace her. Not that she's a pretty blonde or anything like that. Or the actress herself who's playing the character - I have no problem with Rachel Nichols, so absolutely none of this is against her. The character isn't realistic. She's an FBI Cadet. What makes the BAU so special is that these SSAs (They aren't just regular agents or special agents, they're supervisory special agents) are exceptionally trained and highly qualified. They didn't just walk out of the Academy and into the BAU. With the exception of Reid, but he has some exceedingly exceptional circumstances The BAU is NOT a babysitting facility. People don't go there to finish training. They don't walk out of the Academy into the BAU. It's very, very hard to get into the BAU. No cadet is getting in. I have no problem with Rachel Nichols joining the cast. I do, however, have a problem with Ashley Seaver joining the BAU. If Ashley Seaver was a different character, a qualified character, I'd be fine. Surprisingly enough, this is the first time I've had trouble believing what CM puts on the screen for us. I mean, six seasons and I've found everything believable. Ashley Seaver is the first time I've been like, "Uhhh... Yeah right." She would have been fine for a guest spot, but I just don't believe it as a regular thing. It just wouldn't happen. Seriously... if they were going to branch into fanfiction, they should have given me a call. Because... Well... Quite plainly... I'M EFFING BETTER THAN THEY ARE! I would never create such freaking Mary Sue as Ashley Seaver.**

**Secondly, number 6. "INVOLUNTARY MACSLAUGHTER. I KILLED FRAN. ... I killed my baby. I AM A HORRIBLE MOTHER. /sob. My poor, poor Fran. BTW, Fran is my beautiful MacBook. And I spilled Diet Dr. Pepper on her. And killed her. Hence the "involuntary MACslaughter." She's all better now. I got her back on New Years Ever. YAY! I just needed a new logic board. Best. Outcome. Ever. It was still under warranty, so I didn't have to pay for it, got a brand new logic board, a new top case, and a new keyboard. Yay!**

******-JUICY NEWS ALERT-**

******I am having a contest.**

**The contest is for a one-shot of something YOU want to see.**

**The only restriction is that I will not write anything NC-17. Ever. And that's a promise.**

**What you have to do is send me a review, a PM or contact me on my Facebook or a DM to Callie's Twitter (links are on my profile) telling me one way any of my stories or Author's Notes have blessed you this year.**

**The submissions will be printed out and picked at random.**

**There will be five (5) winners.**

**Deadline for entry is January 22, twenty days from today.**

**You can only enter once and it has to be sent in a method I can return contact with you (IE - signed review, PM, Facebook or Twitter. Anonymous reviews are not allowed simply because I can't return contact to an anonymous reviews).**

**Also, if you win and choose something that is already planned in the story, you will get a second choice on the agreement that you will not reveal your original choice until it reveals itself in the story. That part is completely on trust, my trust in you that no one will abuse my gift to you. Please, no one break that trust.**

**This contest is just my way of saying 'thank you' for being the huge blessing you are in my life. So I hope you enjoy and get cracking!**

**Love, Thalia**


	48. Chapter 47

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_"No Man is an Island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main; if a Clod be washed away by the seas, Europe is the less, as well as if a manor thy friends or of thine own were. Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind. And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee." – John Donne_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

15 September, 2010

"I would know if Henry had a son other than Orlando or Demi," Ben protested weakly, leaning heavily against he back of the chair. Sarah's mouth still hung open, unable to believe her brother would have fathered a child and not tell anyone, not taken care of him.

"My brother never would have done that."

"Henry and Hannah were together since their sophomore year in college," Breelyn spoke up. "Henry didn't have time to have another kid."

Prentiss bit her bottom lip against the obvious answer, the answer that had happened to her, the one no one wanted to voice until Rossi did it for them. "He could have had a child before he met Hannah. He might not have even known."

"What kind of girl would get pregnant by _Henry Sellers_ and _not_ demand child support?" Sarah laughed. "That's just ridiculous."

"You gave up this life," J.J. pointed out. "She might not have wanted it. If that's what happened! I'm not saying it is, just trying to think about all the possible explanations. It is possible that, if a girl was ashamed she got pregnant, she might not tell anyone who the father is, especially if it would wind her up on the front page like getting pregnant by Henry would have."

Ben ran a hand over his face and looked exhausted. "Why now? If he really is Henry's child, why now? Why not before? And why kidnap Callie? They've been gone twenty-eight years and no one's said anything, this has never…"

Spencer picked the picture up off the table and clenched his jaw. It was a picture of Calliope and Emeline that he had framed in both his office at the BAU and his home office. It was his absolute favourite. They were snuggled down on the couch watching a movie.

"I need a minute guys," he said, putting the picture down and pushing himself up from the table. Running a hand through his hair, he walked out of the room towards the patio. Penelope watched after him, her eyes watering, and was about to stand up when Hotch muttered an '_excuse me'_ to the team and police officers in the room, laid a reassuring hand on Ben Sellers shoulder, and followed the young man outside.

"Reid?" Hotch stopped a few feet behind his friend.

"I'm alright, Hotch. I just need to collect myself."

"Spencer, it's alright if you can't do this. No one's going to think any less of you if you take yourself off the case."

"No. I swore to her and to myself that I would protect her and keep her safe. If I can't do that, if I can't be in that room trying to find her, than I… I don't deserve her, I don't deserve to ask her to marry me."

"Marry you…" Hotch walked forward, stopping next to the worried man. Reid reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jewelry box, opening it up to look at the glittering ring he had gotten back from García that morning. "How long have you had the ring?"

"April. I found it when I was in Colorado with Gideon, but I asked Dr. Sellers for permission in February. I had everything planned out, I knew exactly how I was going to ask her, and now she's gone."

"You _have_ everything planned out. Reid, we're going to get Callie back and take down this unsub and you will get to ask her to marry you. But you can't loose faith in that. Callie trusts in our ability to catch unsubs and you need to as well. How many times did _Callie_ reassure _us_ when we started to doubt our ability to catch Foyet? More than I can remember. She never doubted us. It's our turn to return that favour. We can't doubt."

"She would ask me 'What are you missing?' or 'Is there another way you can look at this?' It always… Wait a minute… _another way to look_…" Reid's eyes widened in realization and he turned and ran back into the room. "Dr. Sellers, do you still have Henry's things?"

"Well, yes... I couldn't bring myself to throw any of their belongings away."

"Where are his things?"

"What does it matter?"

"We've been looking at this from the unsub's perspective. How you and Henry and Calliope fit into his life. We need to look at it the other way around. We don't know how he fits into your life or Calliope's. So we need to focus on how the unsub fit into Henry's life. Henry might have kept some sort of diary or day planner that might help us figure this out. Finding out you had a son you never knew about, or even someone claiming to be your son, would leave an impression. If he kept a journal or something, he's probably mentioned the unsub or the unsubs' mother in it. We're not getting anything productive from the unsub. We have to find another way to look at it."

"Their… their rooms are still exactly like the day they died," Brenda told him. "We just changed the locks and left everything. No one's been in there in decades. We said it was in case Callie later decided she wanted to know about her family, but really it was just Ben and I not wanting to deal with losing them."

"If we got rid of their things," Ben whispered, looking at a photograph of his son, "it made everything real. The longer we waited, the harder it got. We kept putting it off and we never actually went through anything."

"That's really, really good," Reid told her. "Can you show me the rooms?"

"Of course," Brenda said, putting her coffee down and leading him out of the ballroom.

"Can I steal Morgan, Prentiss and a few officers?" Reid called over his shoulder and the scatter of movement told him he could. Brenda opened the door to the third floor with her palm print and led them down the opposite end of the hallway from where Reid usually turned. He had never come down this side of the floor. Brenda stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall and pulled a set of keys from her pocket.

"My key's missing…" Brenda said in confusion as she sifted through each key. "Why is my key missing?"

"We don't have time for this," Morgan muttered, and got ready to kick the door open.

"That door's two hundred years old!" Brenda protested.

"The door or your daughter?"

Kicking the door open dislodged three decades of dust in a violent fashion, forcing Morgan to tuck his face into the crook of his elbow and cough. Reid stepped through the dust as it settled, keeping a hand over the bottom of his face. Fumbling for a light switch, he blinked when the light came on and blinded them all for a moment.

It was like stepping back in time. The only thing out of place to Reid was the pair of heels he knew belonged to Calliope, the ones she'd lost a few months ago. She had been in here recently.

"Uh, Reid…" Prentiss called his name from behind a desk with books littering the surface. "They're hand written. Uh… these look like scholarly books – They were both college professors, right? This one, though… I think it's a journal. Handwriting looks male."

"There's a bunch more over here," Morgan said from where he crouched at the bottom shelf of an ornately carved bookcase a little to the side of the desk. "Years worth."

"Male or female?" Reid asked, taking the journal from Prentiss.

"Definitely male," Morgan flipped open the cover of one. "I mean, they're exactly signed, but this page is talking about New Years resolutions for nineteen eighty and Hannah wanting another daughter. Safe bet says these belong to Henry."

_Rose's recital is tomorrow. She's so excited to be the lead snowflake. Karen keeps trying to fix the tear in her costume, but Rose won't take it off or stand still long enough to Karen to get a needle in. She'll have to do it once Rose finally conks out. Hannah's a mess. I'm not much better. Callie won't sleep through the night. We're trying to make it through the purple crying as best we can, but Callie's more exhausting than any of the other three. We'll get through it._

_ Orlando decided he wants to try out for basketball in junior high. Here's to hoping he sticks with this one. I've lost track of how many activities he's gone through. Thank goodness baseball didn't last long. Demi's still having trouble with his multiplication tables, but we're working threw them. He's almost gotten the three's down so we'll start the four's soon._

Reid started with the last entry in the book on the desk, dated the morning of December first of nineteen eight two – the morning before they died. The last day he was ever sat at this desk writing his thoughts. The day before he died, he'd been journaling about his children with no idea that none of them would make it past the next forty-eight hours. Reid felt eerie as he moved a day back and continued reading. It was one thing to delve into the personal thoughts of the bad guys; it was another entirely to read the last thoughts of the man who would have been his father-in-law.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"What the hell are you doing here?" Morgan snarled at the man walking into the room with the two officers who had gone to answer the door.

"I asked him, Derek," Reid said from across table, looking up from the wall of leather bound journals he was reading backwards, latest entries to earliest. He was still wading through July of eight-two.

"Without telling us?"

"I told Hotch."

"You authorized this, Hotch?" Morgan asked in angry disbelief.

"We need fresh eyes," he said, looking up from the multitude of papers. "We've looked over and over at all of this and we're getting nothing. We need new perspective. Maybe having a seasoned profiler who doesn't know Callie will help."

"But why _him_? What right does _he_ have to be here? _Now_ of all times? There are other profilers we could have called. We don't need him."

"Look," Gideon said, "I know you aren't thrilled with me, Morgan, and you have every right to feel that way. But this isn't about me. This is about Reid and the Sellers and the woman you're all in here worrying about. I'm just here to help. I'm just here because Reid called asking me to come."

"It's good to see you again, sir," García said smiling tentatively from where she sat behind several computer screens. "It's really good to see you again.

"Thank you, García. It's good to see you too."

"Jason."

"Dave."

"I guess we better fill you in on the case," Rossi nodded, shaking his old friends hand. "J.J., do we have another case file?"

"Printing right now."

"Can you – can you help them find my daughter?" Ben asked as he stood up, hope flooding his face.

"Yes, sir. I can. I'm Jason Gideon," Gideon assured him with his hand outstretched. "These agents can do anything. They will find your daughter. I'm just here to help."

"Gideon's one of the best with kidnappings," Reid told Ben as he handed Gideon the file J.J. had just given him. A slip of paper fell from the journal into his lap as Reid turned the page. Brow furrowed, he put the book down and picked up the paper, unfolding it and reading. As he read, his jaw became more and more slack until it was partially open. "García, Kaden Kaytis."

"Kaden Kaytis?" Brittnee's head jerked up. "I know Kaden. He volunteers at This Century."

"He contacted Henry saying he was his son," Reid reread the paper to himself as Ben turned to stare at him. "This is his last journal entry. It's on a piece of loose leaf and just shoved in the book. I didn't see it at first." Looking up at Ben for a moment, Reid began reading aloud.

"Evening, December first, Eighty-two. I might have a third son. He just called me. Got my office number from the school. How am I going to tell Hannah? Kaden Kaytis. That's his name. Says he's fourteen years old. I know that last name and I remember her, but I can't remember her first name. Oh my God, how am I going to tell Hannah? We set up lunch for Friday – he has a half-day from school. How am I going to tell Hannah?"

"He sounds stunned," Morgan commented when Reid stopped.

"Kaden Kaytis, DOB June twenty-eighth, nineteen sixty-eight, Williamsburg. Mother, Elissa Kaytis, nineteen. Father, unknown," García read off the screen of her computer.

"Henry's freshman year of college," Sarah's face was ashen and she sat down.

"Kaden wouldn't do this," Brittnee protested. "I've known Kad for years. He's a good person. He wouldn't let me kill a spider than came into the gallery. He caught it and took it outside. I mean… two hours later, Calliope showed up, saw it, screamed and stepped on it, but that's not the point."

"Has Calliope ever met Kaden?" Gideon asked, looking over the pages he was reading as he tried to catch up on the case.

"I don't think so."

"But _he_ has seen _her_, correct?"

"Well, yeah. He helps me with the galleries. He used to help my mom when she ran This Century. In return, he gets free admission to gallery openings and stuff. It's been that way forever."

"When did Kaden first start volunteering at the gallery?" Gideon stood.

"I don't know. I think I was… thirteen? So, like, ninety-five?"

"Callie had her first gallery showing in ninety-five," Ben thinned his lips and held Brenda's hand. "At This Century."

"He showed up because of Callie?" Brittnee asked, twisting to look at as many faces as she could. "No! Kaden helps with _all_ the showings, not just hers. He didn't do this! Kaden _wouldn't_ do this."

"Part of his cover," Gideon crossed his arms and glanced at Rossi, who nodded like it made sense. "It would be too obvious if he only helped or came to Calliope's shows. García, what else do you have on this?"

"Well, he graduated top of his class from Lafayette High School in Williamsburg. Went to Washington and Lee, graduated with honours in ninety-one with a degree in math. Got his masters. Teaches calculus over at Jamestown High School."

"If he knew us and came to Callie's shows and everything, why didn't he say anything?" Brenda asked.

"I don't know," Rossi raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. "He might have thought Henry had told you and that you were ignoring him, pretending he didn't exist."

"Picture?" Morgan stood and walked towards García, who brought up Katyis' drivers' license. "Woah."

"'Woah' doesn't even begin to cover it," García nodded, pulling up Henry's photo and putting them side-by-side. "They're like clones."

"How could we never have noticed him?" Ben asked, staring at the photos. "I would have noticed someone who looked so much like my son."

"Not if he didn't want to be noticed," Gideon shook his head. "He spent his entire life watching your family, blending into the background of your lives."

"Callie said the redhead was friendly," Hotch raised the legal pad full of Reid's illegible writing. "I can't see the picture, but if he looks like Henry, he has red hair. If we understood Callie correctly, Kaden wasn't part of the plan."

"He couldn't be part of the plan!" Brittnee protested adamantly. "Kaden wouldn't do this."

"Do we have an address?" Morgan kissed the top of García's red head in a silent 'thank you.'

"In your GPS. It's an apartment though. No basement. Be safe, my loves."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

No one answered when Hotch called for Kaytis to open the door and come out of the apartment. Giving a nod, Hotch stepped back and let Morgan in front of him. Shouting one last chance, Morgan waited a second before kicking right below the doorknob. The door burst open; the frame by the lock cracked and broke. Morgan went in first with his gun raised.

"Clear!" A SWAT agent called from the bedroom.

"Clear!" from the kitchen.

"Clear!" came the shout from the bathroom.

"Morgan? Clear?" Hotch shouted from the living room where he'd stopped.

"Uh… sort of."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"I'm sorry," Kaden sat in the corner of the empty basement, empty besides Calliope. His hands and feet had been tied together with rope. "This is all my fault."

"How is this your fault?" Calliope wished she could see him, but her eyes were still covered with duct tape. "Who are you?"

"Your brother," he mumbled.

Calliope didn't say anything. She was stunned into complete silence. "My brothers are both dead. They died in a car crash."

"I know. I'm your half-brother."

"I don't _have_ a half-brother! I don't know what you're talking about." Calliope felt like her heart would beat right out of her chest.

"I didn't want you to find out this way. I didn't… I'm sorry."

"I don't… I don't believe you. My dad wouldn't have cheated on my mom. You're lying."

"It was in college," Kaden shook his head. "My mom got pregnant and dropped out."

"That doesn't mean it was my dad!"

Neither one of them spoke for a long while. Calliope couldn't get her heart to leave her throat or beat regularly. This couldn't be happening. She welcomed the bizarre in her life. It kept her entertained, but _this_? This was…

"You're my brother? Half-brother? You're sure?"

"My mom confessed when I was eight. I saw a picture of them tucked in an old box and I asked."

"Why… why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I told your dad. When I was fourteen. You'd just been born. But, then, they all…" Kaden trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid. "And I almost introduced myself to you and your grandpa when you were ten, but I lost my nerve and didn't."

"You're fourteen years older than me?"

"Yes."

"So you were born three years before Orlando, right?"

"Yes. The summer after their freshman year at Washington and Lee."

"Oh my God."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"And I thought the bomber chick's room was scary…" Morgan commented to Hotch as he snapped pictures of the room to send to García. "It's like a Sellers shrine in here."

"Bomber chick?" Hotch raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, uh… I don't remember her name. The one at the university who set off a bomb every time three threes showed up."

Hotch nodded. "He's been watching them for years. Morgan, Hannah's pregnant in this picture. Callie wasn't even born yet."

"This level of obsession and he never said anything? And he's 'helping' her?"

"Afraid of rejection," Gideon said, pulling on the pair of latex gloves Rossi handed him. "He can't say anything, because, if he does, he risks them rejecting him and shattering his delusion that he's part of their lives."

"This entire room is pristine. Everything has a place. There isn't a spec of dust in here," Rossi ran a hand over the top shelf above his head and held up the clean glove for everyone to see. "This room is like a sanctuary, a shrine of what his life could have been like."

"If he'd been part of this life, he would have died in the car wreck too," Prentiss walked into the room with Reid, having just arrived from Dahlia. Reid didn't say anything, simply stared, mouth parted in amazement, at the walls lined in photographs and framed newspaper articles like a museum.

"That's from Ms. Sellers' birth," one of the policemen pointed a framed article. "My mom kept it too. Here's Rosalind's. He doesn't have the boys' announcements, though. Why not?"

"He didn't know then," Gideon took an article off the wall across the room.

"Know what?"

"That his last name should have been Sellers," his tone was absentminded as he began reading.

"He's been to Dahlia," Reid picked up a stack of pamphlets sitting neatly in a basket on an end table. "A lot. This one's the one they hand out to visitors now. I've never seen the rest. They must be from before I met Calliope."

"Do they have to stay there to get one or does every visitor get one?" Prentiss asked.

"Every visitor. He didn't have to stay overnight. Just for the tour."

"I can understand most of this stuff," Morgan said from where he stood in the corner. "Most of this is public stuff. Anybody living in Williamsburg can get their hands on this stuff. Some items might take more work than others, but they are accessible. But how'd he get _this_?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Elissa Kaytis? My name's Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. Agents Prentiss and Jareau."

"I-I saw you on the news," the gray haired woman kept the door close to her, not opening it any further.

"We're investigating the abduction of Calliope Sellers."

"I don't know anything about that. I'm sorry," she started the close the door on them, but Hotch simply raised his voice.

"Your son, Kaden. When did you tell him who his father was?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We know you got pregnant when you were nineteen," Prentiss spoke. "Was Henry Sellers the father, Elissa?"

Elissa's lengthy pause was all the answer they needed.

"May we come in, Ms. Kaytis?" JJ asked.

The inside of the Kaytis house was warm and friendly, overly plush furniture in welcoming colours and bookcases stuffed to overflowing. Photographs hung on the walls and sat on tables.

"Kaden doesn't have anything to do with that woman's disappearance."

"Have you heard from him since you saw us on the news?" Hotch asked.

"No," the answer came in a whisper. "He didn't show up for church tonight. He leads the teenager's bible studies and he didn't show."

"Excuse me, who is in this picture with Kaden?" Prentiss interrupted, handing a picture to Elissa.

"That's Marty Draper and Tim Hossa," Elissa identified each boy. "They've been friends since high school."

"Hotch, look at their hair," Prentiss said meaningfully.

"Would Kaden have confided in them about his father?"

"I don't, maybe, I don't know. I don't like them. They were good kids in high school, but, somewhere since then, they changed."

"García," J.J. walked away from the woman and two agents and spoke quietly. "I've got two more names for you. Marty Draper and Tim Hossa. So, that's probably Martin or Timothy."

_ "Who are they?"_

"Friends of Kaytis."

_ "Do they have the–"_

"One with black hair, one with brown."

_ "Eeep. On it. Hold please. Hey, at the apartment, did they really find a picture of–"_

"Callie and Emeline? Yup."

_ "Okay, stop reading my mind, Jean Grey, it's freaking me out."_

"Sorry," JJ smiled. "So, anything?"

_ "You know how Kaytis was beyond clean. Like, total model citizen? These boys are as much like that as I am like… like Chief Strauss. What's the opposite of squeaky-clean? Grimy? Because these boys are all up in the grim."_

"How grimy?"

_ "Well, they robbed three houses, obviously not very well, because they got caught and sentenced to ten in the pen for armed robbery. Served six each and got out. Went back in for robbing a handful of convenience stores. Served eight years, deemed rehabilitated robbers and are currently on parole. Which I'm assuming they've broken. Did these grimy gunmen steal the Lucy to my Ethel?"_

"Seems likely. We just don't know Kaytis' role in it."

_ "Well, he sounds creepy. And how the heck did he get a picture of Luce and Eme? I mean, Callie puts, like, no pictures online. She's always telling me to untag her on Facebook. She's super carful about who can see her online and stuff and I just don't see her giving this Freakazoid access."_

"I have no idea. But it is a picture she put on Facebook. I printed it out."

_ "Didn't they change the privacy settings on Facebook again this summer? He might have nabbed it before she reset them."_

"It's possible, but that would mean he would have had to be stalking her Facebook almost daily."

_ "Yeah, 'cause that room doesn't already scream 'psycho stalker' a loud as possible." _

"Okay, García, do you have anything about them? Anything that can help us? Do they have jobs, what have they been doing since they got out of jail?"

_ "Hossa is unemployed, but Draper is currently working construction for Shaw De-Struction. It's a family owned construction company that specializes in the decommission of old buildings, like, getting them ready to be torn down. Gordon Shaw owns the company."_

"Are they working on any projects right now?"

_ "Um… They're working on an old textile factory that caught on fire. 'Structurally unsound, demolition necessary.' That's in Jamestown. An abandoned fire station in Ewell. And an office building in Gloucester Point."_

"Do any of those have basements?"

_ "The office building and the factory."_

"Is Hossa working on one of them?"

_ "Draper."_

"Him too."

_ "It doesn't say, not that that will stop me, the ultimate super sleuth. Mr. Gordon Shaw has a rather unpleasant phone call in his future. I'll call you back."_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

They were getting closer. Inch by inch, they clawed their way closer to getting Calliope back. Running a hand over Perses' head, Reid tried to even out his breathing. Closing his eyes, he ran a hand over his face. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Ashanti and Breelyn talking quietly to Morgan and García. Both sisters nodded and walked away. Reid wondered briefly what had been said or where they were going, but the thought left him as Hotch came back into the room.

"Police found the van in Jamestown. They left Callie's purse in it."

"Rookie mistake," Rossi commented.

"So they have her in the textile factory," Gideon pulled the blueprints of the factory Gordon Shaw had given them out of their tube and spread them out over the table.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"They fucking found us," Marty groused as he and Tim stampeded down the stairs to the basement, listening to the sirens blaring from all around the factory.

"How'd they find us? You said this was a sure win," Tim blamed Marty as he followed after him.

"Get him up," Marty didn't answer as he pointed to Kaden still in the corner. Tim sawed at the rope binding Kaden's legs before moving onto his hands. Marty stopped behind Calliope and cut the wires around her wrists. Bending down, Marty cut the wires holding Calliope's ankles to the legs of the chairs and started to get up. Before he could move, Calliope brought her foot up between his legs. Marty doubled over and Calliope stood, planting her boots steadily on the floor beneath her for the first time in what she was sure had been at least ten hours. Fumbling her hands behind her, she grabbed the flimsy chair that had held her hostage just moments ago and brought it down over Marty's back. She had wanted to bash his head, but, with the duct tape obscuring her eyes, she would settle for any part of his body.

Something horribly solid tackled her from behind and she and the chair fell forward. She screamed in agony as she fell forward over Marty's prone figure. The chair hit the cement first and then she hit the chair, breaking it beneath her as Tim crushed her to the ground. Calliope's face rebounded off the concrete floor and she heard ribs snap on the legs of the chair as they broke under the weight of Calliope and Tim.

A gun cocked, but Calliope couldn't do anything trapped beneath two hundred pounds of muscle. "Kaden, don't do anything stupid. Don't try and be the hero now, stupid, or you'll both be dead."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"That's Calliope!" Reid shouted to Hotch as a scream came from within the building. Or, at least, he thought he shouted. In reality, the words had come out a hoarse, terrified whisper only audible to J.J. standing right next to him. Hotch lifted the megaphone to his face.

"Kaden Kaytis, Marty Draper, Tim Hossa. This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner with the FBI. Come out with Calliope Sellers unharmed or we will come in. We'll give you two minutes before we break down the door."

"We can't break down the door, Hotch," Derek said. "If we go in, they'll feel threatened and cornered and might kill her while they tries to escape."

"I know that, but I don't want him to know that," Hotch nodded.

"Movement! Movement inside the house!" A SWAT officer called and the officers all drew their guns, pointing directly at the front door.

"You have forty-five seconds, Kaytis, everything all right?" Hotch called through the megaphone.

"Put you're guns down and I'll bring her out!" A deep voice yelled from inside the house.

"We can't do that. You know that. Come out into the open and bring Calliope. When you're out here, we can talk this out peacefully."

Reid watched, his gun extended, as the front door opened and Kaden Kaytis came into view, his arm wrapped around Calliope's neck and the muzzle of a gun pressed against her temple. Duct tape had been wrapped around her head, layered repeatedly over her eyes, and a dirty scrap of cloth gagged her. Kaden's grip kept Calliope's feet from fully reaching the ground and she kept stumbling as he dragged her forward.

When he stopped forty feet from where the police barricade had been set up, Reid knew he wasn't the only one more than a bit unnerved by how much Kaden looked like Calliope.

"Kaytis, you know this isn't going to end well. You have FBI, police and SWAT all with their guns trained on you, ready to shoot," Hotch said with a calm air he didn't feel. "Where are Hossa and Draper?"

"Give me my share of the Sellers money and you can have my sister back!"

"You know you're not getting out of this driveway a free man, Kaytis, much less with a two hundred million. Make this easy on yourself and give us Calliope," Prentiss called from where she stood next to J.J.

"I-I-I'll – I'll kill her."

"Kaden, you know this is crazy," Morgan tried to reason with the wild-eyed man as he edged closer. "Give us Cal and you'll get to the police station unharmed. If you don't, these men have the order to take the shot. If you don't give us Cal, you don't stand a chance of making it out of this alive."

"Hey! Back up! Back up or I'll shoot her."

"You shoot her, we'll shoot you. She dies, you die. You let her go and you'll live," Hotch told him.

"There are six FBI agents out here who love that girl very, very much, Kaytis," Rossi took a turn trying to talk the man down. "You kill Calliope and I can guarantee you the six of us will shot you. Do you know what being shot six times at once feels like? It's no picnic."

"Kaden, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid. We talked on the phone, remember?" Reid said, putting his hands up in a motion of surrender and taking a few slow steps forward.

"Yeah, I remember," Kaden said, jerking Calliope slightly behind him so that his body was mostly in front of hers. "You're the guy who's screwing my slut sister."

"She's not a slut, Kaden. She's your sister; she's the daughter of your father. She's my girlfriend. We've been together for two years. We have a little girl, your niece. Her name's Emeline. I, uh, I call her my Princess Eme. She's three years old. But you know that. You have a picture of Eme in your apartment. That dog you left in the car – his name's Perses. I gave him to Calliope for her twenty-seventh birthday last November. She's going to be twenty-eight in a few months, but you knew that, didn't you? Because twenty-eight years ago you were fifteen and had just worked up the nerve to contact Henry Sellers and tell him you were his son.

"How do I know this? I read it in his journal, Kaden. You were supposed to meet him for lunch on December third, but you couldn't because he died in a car crash the night before. How long did you wait for him at the restaurant, Kaden? An hour? Two? I bet you were really angry that he stood you up and, then, when you got home you saw the news. That the Sellers family had been killed the night before, they all died in a tragic accident, except for the grandfather and Henry's newborn daughter – the daughter that you've got a gun to.

"You've spent the past twenty-eight years getting angrier and angrier because you believed you lost your chance at being an acknowledged member of the Sellers family. Why didn't you contact Dr. Sellers? He's your grandfather. You could have spoken to him. You could have gone to Calliope once she was old enough. Instead over two and a half decades, you just kept getting more and more angry and now you don't even care about being a Sellers. You just want the Sellers fortune. You don't care about Henry Sellers or Ben Sellers or any of your dead siblings. You don't care about the woman you're threatening to shoot, _your sister_."

"Shut up!" He screamed at Reid, spit flying in real rage. "You don't know anything about me!"

With a deafening crack, two gunshots exploded simultaneously and Kaden jerked, the bullets ripping through his shoulder and his abdomen. He started to fall, but his arm was still locked around Calliope's neck and he pulled her with him as he fell.

* * *

**A/N:**

**... TO BE CONTINUED...**

**I feel like Hotch at the end of 4x26 "... And Back" when he walks into his apartment and pours whiskey and he's doing the voiceover about how the ending at the pig farm was shit despite the fact that they did everything right. That sometimes are "no clever quotes to neatly sum up what's happened that day." And The Reaper is all super creepy and monotone and goes "youshouldhavemadeadeal" and Hotch's voiceover starts again "Sometimes... the day just..." GUNSHOT "ends..."**

**"TO BE CONTINUED"**

**And you sit there on your couch going "WTF JUST HAPPENED? I HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL EFFING SEPTEMBER TO FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS? IT'S FREAKING JUNE! ARE YOU INSANE? YOU CAN'T DO THAT TO ME!" And then you throw something at your TV and go on a homicidal rampage, oh wait... that last part's just me. [:**

**Happy stuff? I can do that!**

**I was expecting, like, 10 entries into the contest. Maybe. Instead, I got twenty-eight. I love you guys so much! **

**Winners The Liz Monster, thompbrl, griffindoranime, RWL, and Melpomene Lee. Congrats! I've already sent yall PMs, so just send me one back with your request and I shall set to work.**

**WARNING::: Hockey rant ahead.**

**BAHHHHH So, yall know how much and how hardcore I love my Cancucks and, if you don't, where the heck have you been? My babies, my beautiful boys in blue, they haven't won a game in a week. Which is not the problem. I accept every team has their slumps just the same as they have their win streaks. We've had our amazing month and a half streak without an in-regulation lose. We've been number 1 in the league since the first week of Jan. We only just dropped to number 2 yesterday. We're due for a schlump. It's cool. What's NOT cool, are all the freaking trolls that show up on our Facebook page just to be jackasses and say "OMG CANUCKS SUCK" or "WORST TEAM IN THE LEAGUE!" or "CANUCKS DON'T HAVE A CUP!" I'm so over it. I mean... they never post anything original! They just repeat the same lame insults over and over and over again. And most of them are completely irrelevant and/or incorrect! And their grammar! OH MY GOD, it's enough to make a teacher commit suicide! The Flames beat us in a shoot-out on Saturday (it was a completely ridiculous overturned call that I'm still not quite ready to talk about) and it was like we'd put out spiked candy or something! Trolls crawled out of the woodwork like termites. I don't mind that we're getting beaten right now. Don't get me wrong, I want them to win and I'm kind of tired of losing to teams that we should be beating, but I understand. We're getting beaten because every team we play brings their playoff game because they know we're one of the teams to beat. Our boys are exhausted, we know it, they know it, everyone know follows hockey knows it. They have to play May/June hockey every time they step on the ice. The other teams have to play it once every few weeks when they play one of the top teams. And four of our defensemen are out on injury - my Baby Bieksa went out in a fight on Saturday. Eye injury. Poor Baby Bieksa. - anyways! And then, when they beat us, their fans come troll. BAHHHH! So over this bull****. So, stupid trolling Flames fans, you can have the win. Consider it charity. We're still top of the West, second in the league. You're 17 points behind us, without a playoff spot, 2nd to last in the West and 23 in the league. You have oh so much to brag about. You beat us on a technicality that I'm still not convinced was correct. We're so proud of you. [[[[If you are a Flames fan who does not troll, I apologize.]]]]**

**I'm tired. And I have crap to do. THANKS FOR READING! I love you guys SOOOOOOO MUCH! I hope you like it and I hope there's no one out there with pitchforks and torches over the "TBC" bit... Please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	49. Chapter 48

**Disclaimer: I do now own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Emotional occasions, especially violent ones, are extremely potent in precipitating mental rearrangements. The sudden and explosive ways in which love, jealousy, guilt, fear, remorse, or anger can seize upon one are known to everybody… And emotions that come in this explosive way seldom leave things as they found them." – William James_

o o o o

15 September, 2010

_ "Guess who?"_

_ "How can I guess? You never told me your name."_

_ "Calliope."_

_ "The muse of epic poetry? The eldest of the Mousai? The mother of Orpheus? What about her?"_

_ "No, silly. My name is Calliope. Calliope Sellers."_

_ "Are you happy, Spencer?"_

_ "Am I happy? What kind of question is that? Of course I'm happy. I'm with you, Sweetheart, how could I not be happy?"_

_ "I'm happy too."_

"_How, uh, how much coffee have you had to drink today, Calliope?"_

"_Um… I lost track after thirteen."_

_ "I just… I don't get it."_

_ "You don't get it because you're a good man, Spencer. You're an incredibly loyal person and you would never betray someone you love and care about. Plus, it doesn't hurt that you're dating an artist."_

_ "What do you mean?"_

_ "Artists – we're all kind of therapists, whatever our medium. We absorb things into ourselves that others try and look past or brush aside, try and forget. We express them to the world in ways that, maybe after a while, they won't seem as bad as they truly are. People tell us things because they know we'll understand, they know we can absorb everything they can't and eventually transform whatever it is they're feeling into something beautiful."_

_ "So, I've been using you as a therapist?"_

"_Spencer, you see horrific things every single day. You study criminals and murderers so you can help people, but in the process, you keep internalizing all of that pain. You never let any of it go; you keep everything inside. You rarely talk about what you see when you're working. We've been dating going on five months now and you rarely talk about what you've seen. But I can feel it. When something's weighing on you, I can feel it."_

"_Sweet Jesus, Spencer! What the hell is wrong with you? I didn't give you a key so you could come scare the living shit out of me at one in the morning! What the hell is wrong with you? What's going on? Is someone dead? 'Cause if no one's dead and you did that to me for no reason, I'm going to kill you."_

"_I'm falling in love with you, Dr. Reid."_

"_I'm sorry."_

"_Good morning."_

"_I love you."_

"_I really like you."_

"_I like you too."_

_ "Spencer… This is Emeline."_

_ "I met someone, Mom."_

_ "And now you are angry with me too because I have a man here. I found the poor creature sitting all alone astride of a keel, for Jove had struck his ship with lightening and sunk it in mid ocean, so that all his crew were drowned, while he himself was driven by wind and waves on to my island. I got fond of him and cherished him, and had set my heart of making him immortal, so that he should never grow old all of his days."_

As soon as Calliope and Kaden started falling backwards, a half dozen people in Kevlar sprang forward. Reid dropped his gun, but couldn't move as his entire relationship flew behind his eyes and he heard every word, felt every touch, saw every smile again. His legs gave out beneath him as if every ounce of strength had suddenly drained itself from his body and he crumpled to the ground. He felt arms around his back, trying to hold him up, but couldn't turn his head to see who touched him.

"Reid, Reid, it's okay," Hotch's voice was in Reid's ear as he held onto the collapsed genius. "It's okay."

"Get away from her, Kaytis," Morgan commanded in a steely tone, his gun pointed at the man who had yet to let go of Calliope. "Let go!"

"I can't," the redhead sobbed outright.

"Yes, you can, you son of a bitch. Get that gun away from her head. Now, Kaytis! I will shoot you."

"No!" Calliope's cracking voice finally came as she managed to pull the disgusting rag out of her mouth. "Derek? Don't shoot. Please."

"Cal–"

"Take the magazine out of the gun," Calliope cried, her tears pooling beneath the duct tape and her hand reaching out for the man she couldn't see.

"I'm gonna get the gun away from you," Morgan said without moving. "Just–"

"No! Derek, get the magazine out of the gun. Please," Calliope shook, unable to keep calm a moment longer. "Trust me. Please, Derek."

Morgan handed his gun to Prentiss and moved closer, carefully. The muzzle was still pressed directly against Calliope's temple even though Kaden's arm was slack. As Morgan knelt, he saw the reason.

"It's fucking superglued to her head!" Morgan shouted and all movement stopped. "Kaytis is glued to the trigger. Fucking hell…"

Taking a few deep breaths, Morgan steadied himself as much as possible. If he moved Kaden's hand too much, the trigger might trip and Calliope wouldn't stand a chance. Hell, they were lucky the gun hadn't gone off when they fell. Reid managed to get to Calliope's side, albeit with much assistance from Hotch, and he held Calliope's hand tightly, not daring to speak as Morgan assessed how best to proceed. Finally ready, he reached out and started to unlatch the magazine.

Screams erupted as gunshot sliced through the air.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"They've got Callie," Penelope pulled the headset from her ear and threw it down on the table, the tears she'd been holding in for a dozen odd hours finally poured freely. Laying her head down on her folded arms in sheer exhaustion, Penelope García sobbed in a way she hadn't since her parents' funeral.

Gideon pulled his glasses off and wiped his eyes dry. Perses jumped up onto the couch next to him and tried to climb into the mans' lap as if he were a tiny lapdog. Gideon just rested his hand on the dog's head.

Ben and Brenda collapsed into each other, their relief all consuming. All around the room, people's reactions were the same: cries of relief, tears of joy, prayers of thankfulness to God for letting this Hell end.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Morgan jerked back, terrified, but the shooting continued. Calliope clung to Reid's hand and dug her lime green acrylic nails into his skin. Spencer felt nothing. Twelve different radios crackled from the belts of twelve different people and earwigs went from silent to practically shouting.

"SWAT caught two men trying to leave out back," Rossi said unnecessarily. Everyone had already heard. "One's dead, the other wounded."

Hands shaking slightly, Morgan reached towards the handle of the gun again and willed his hands to be still. As soon as the Glock was free of brass, Morgan ripped the muzzle away from the area of duct tape over Calliope's temple to which it had been glued. Calliope screamed as the movement shot pain from her ribs to ever nerve ending in her body.

Morgan was instantly on his feet and dragging Kaden, whose hand was still glued to the gun, away from Calliope by the cusp of his collar, not bothered a bit when the man started coughing and protesting in pain. Reid dropped his head until his forehead touched Calliope's. Squeezing his eyes shut against tears he knew he had no chance at holding back, he pressed a kiss against her sweaty skin and tried to take a full breath.

"Spencer? Spencer!" Calliope grabbed onto him for reassurance and cried out when he pulled her into his arms, "Take it off! Please, take it off!"

"We'll take it off as soon as we can," he promised and pulled her hands down away from the duct tape before calling across the driveway. "Morgan! I need you're help."

"Son of a bitch! She's your sister, damnit! You could have had a family and all you wanted was the damn money. She's your _sister_, not a paycheck, ya sick bastard," Morgan growled, giving the prone man a last sharp kick in the ribs before leaving him with the SWAT officers. Turning, he jogged the few steps to where Reid was holding Calliope to his chest. Morgan pulled his pocketknife out as he knelt next to them and put a hand on Calliope's shoulder, "Cal, I need you to hold very, very still. I'm going to cut the tape off, but you need to hold very still so I don't accidently cut you."

When she was still, Morgan slipped the edge of the small blade under the tape and carefully starting sawing away at the layers. She started to shake a little after a few seconds and he stopped, motioning for Prentiss to come over.

"Cal, Prentiss is gonna hold your head so I can cut the rest of this off."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Calliope mumbled, still clinging desperately to Reid.

"Don't be sorry, Sweetheart. You're fine," he told her, taking one of her hands in his.

"Reid's right, Cal," Derek agreed. "You're doing great, Toothpick. Prentiss is just going to help you. Hey, hey, Cal. It's ok. That's Prentiss. Those are her hands."

"Spencer?"

"I'm still right here, Calliope. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere"

"Get it off. Please, just get it off."

"You have to hold still, Calliope. We're going to help you, ok?" Prentiss told her, positioning her hands on either side of Calliopes head.

"You ready, Cal?"

She nodded shakily and gritted her teeth as Morgan began cutting the through the duct tape again. It took several minutes before Morgan managed to cut all the way through the multitude of tape covering her eyes.

"Okay, Cal. Almost done. We're finished with the cutting. All we have to do now is peel it off. How long has the tape been on, Toothpick?"

"They put it on in the basement. Pretty soon after I was down there."

"Then this is going to take some time, all right? I want you to keep your eyes shut. Don't open them until Reid says it's ok. Understand?"

She nodded again and squeezed Reids' hand as Morgan slowly began peeling the tape back.

"Where's Kaden? Is the ok?"

"The officers have Kaytis. You're safe now. He can't hurt you."

"No! Where is he? He's not dead, is he? The shots didn't kill him, did they?"

"No, he'll live. But you're safe, Cal."

"I know I'm safe, Derek. Is he okay?"

"Stay still, Sweetheart. I know it hurts, I know," Reid said comfortingly, holding her tightly. "You're doing really well, Sweetheart."

"Are – are Grandpa and Mammy ok?"

"They're fine, Calliope. They're at home – at Dahlia – waiting for us to get you back."

"What about Eme?"

Morgan motioned for Reid to keep her talking – she was still when she had something to focus on. Half an eye was showing and Morgan kept slowly working his fingers over the edge of the tape, trying to break the tape that had bonded to her skin without taking the skin with it.

"Ow! Shit, I think that hurt worse then being hit." Calliope instinctively jerked her hand to her forehead. "Am I bleeding?"

"Hey! Detective Myers, we need some tissues or something," Emily called over her shoulder and the officer did an awkward jog back to his cruiser, coming back with a box of tissues.

"Allergies," he shrugged in explanation, handing the box to Reid who pressed a couple of bunched tissues to her forehead near the bridge of her nose. "Is she going to be ok?"

"I'm fine," Calliope said, wincing as a few hairs from her right eyebrow tugged out with the tape. "And apparently I'm not going to have to wax my eyebrows for a while. Do I have any eyebrow left?"

The four people around her started chuckling and Reid felt a full breath of air filled his lungs as the ambulance screamed onto the scene. "You have plenty of eyebrow left, Sweetheart," he told her.

"Ok, Cal. A few more seconds and the tape's off your eyes. All most… done. Ok, Cal. Very slowly, I want you to open your eyes. If you can't, don't force them. Some of the sticky residue might be gluing your eyes shut."

"I can't get them open…" Calliope told him, her nose wrinkling in irritation. "Wait. My left eye. D, help, please?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Cal. Let's wait for the medics."

"No! I want to see. I want to see you guys. It's really loose. I can see a little bit, I just need some help to get it all the way open."

"Alright. Hold still." With one careful sweep of his fingers, Calliope's eye opened and she smiled gratefully.

"The other?"

"Calliope, if your eye's stuck, we should wait for the medics," Reid told her, realistically.

"Spencer, please. My eyes have been closed for hours." At Reids' reluctant nod, Morgan gently began working the sticky glue from her eyelid, peeling globs away from her eyelashes.

"Okay. Try now, Cal."

"Almost," she told them, her nose wrinkling again. A few more wipes and Calliope blinked her second eye open. "Thank you."

"Hold still for a little longer so I can cut this chunk of tape off." Morgan quickly cut off the loose flap of duct tape and tucked the knife back into his pocket. "We'll deal with the tape over your hair later."

Prentiss and Morgan moved back as two EMTs came up with a stretcher. Calliope leaned against Reid, resting her head on his bulletproof FBI vest while the stretcher was collapsed to the ground.

"I'm fine, Spencer. I just want to go home. I want to go home to Dahlia."

"You're going to the hospital, Sweetheart."

"Home."

"Nope."

"Mean."

"Stubborn."

"True." Calliope smiled and her eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally hitting her. "Spencer? Thank you."

"I love you," Reid whispered against her temple before letting the medics carefully take her from him and put her on the stretcher. He watched helplessly as they asked her questions and began cutting her cardigan off, her favourite cardigan, the one piece of clothing she wore most often and it was gone. It was trivial, yes, but he hated seeing the green knit stained with Kaden's blood and knowing he'd never watch the glittering wool flowers stitched to the back sparkle as she ran in front of him.

Her bloody, pink Blondie shirt was cut up the middle and then the sleeves. Reid gritted his teeth, but stayed silent. He didn't like the other people looking at her body. She was his, for his eyes only. Ripping off the Kevlar vest, Reid pulled his sweater off to cover her as soon as they were finished.

"Is Kad okay?"

"Kad?" Reid asked, his brow furrowing in confusion at the term of endearment while he put the sweater next to her on the stretcher.

"Kaden. The man who was shot. My brother."

"I know who he is, Calliope. He held you hostage."

"No. No, he tried to protect me. He tried to keep me safe!"

"Calliope, what are you talking about?"

"You didn't have to shoot him," Calliope stared at him, her eyes welling with tears. "You didn't have to shoot him. He wasn't going to hurt me. He was scared and trapped and didn't have a choice!"

"He had a gun to your head."

"Spencer, he wasn't going to hurt me. Go check on him. Please. For me."

"Alright, alright. I'll go check on him if you promise to calm down before you start hyperventilating. I'll be back." Reid kissed her head and nodded to the to the medics who were wrapping Calliope's ribs tightly. Standing, he made quick work of walking over to where Rossi and Morgan were standing over by where they had Kaden. "Hey."

"Why aren't you with Callie?" Rossi asked, looking at him strangely, knowing nothing short of an emergency could have torn him away from the woman.

"She sent me over here to check on Kaytis. She seems convinced he wasn't going to hurt her. She said he protected her and kept her safe. Nothing's making sense anymore. This just doesn't fit. We're missing something." Reid pushed past them towards where medics were working on Kaden.

"What the hell is going on?" He spat as he squatted next to the man. "Why?"

"Is Callie ok? My sister – she's not hurt, is she?"

"Her ribs are broken. Make me understand why you did this."

"I didn't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Kaden was shaking with sobs, burying his face in his hands, a movement that hindered the medic's ability to wrap his shoulder. "I tried to stop it."

"Then what happened?"

"Spencer, stop it."

Spencer turned at Calliope's voice and grabbed her to him when she started to move towards the other man. She rolled her eyes as he held her protectively against him, away from Kaden.

"Spencer, let go."

"Absolutely not. You're not getting anywhere near him. You should be in the ambulance! Who let you out of the ambulance?"

"Let. Go."

He had never heard this particular steely tone directed at him and the couple stared at each other down for several long minutes before he let go and watched like a hawk as she sat next to her brother and took his hand.

"Kad? Are you okay?"

"Callie. I'm so sorry, Callie. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Kad. I'm fine. Everything's going to be okay."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer still didn't understand a few minutes later when they finally managed to get Calliope back onto the stretcher and he had climbed into the ambulance after her. She'd almost fallen asleep by the time the ambulance reached the hospital, despite how much pain her ribs must have been causing her, despite the EMTs hovering over her to clean her spliced bottom lip, and probably because of morphine IV hooked into her arm.

"Spencer?"

"I'm right here," he took her hand.

"Eme… is she okay? Does she–"

"I haven't told her anything. She's fine."

Calliope nodded and closed her eyes.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Hotch, why'd you shoot Kaytis?" Spencer asked as they sat outside in the waiting room. Emily was waiting in the entrance for the carload of people from Dahlia to get there and J.J. was dealing with the onslaught of media that had followed them from the shoot-out at the textile factory to the hospital. Dave had gone to the police station and Derek had simply disappeared.

Aaron turned his head to look at his coworker, waiting a minute or so before answering. "No one else on this team is going to lose a loved one because of an unsub. I lost Haley, Derek lost Darrian Walkers, Gideon lost Sarah, Dave lost Ray, Elle lost… herself. That's enough. I wasn't going to let Callie be added to that list."

"I thought we weren't supposed to keep score," Spencer glanced at his superior before looking down at his hands and fiddling with the bracelet the medics had taken from Calliope's wrist and handed to him. "I believe that's what you told me after Owen Savage."

"Sometimes…" Aaron searched within his own mind for the right words. "Sometimes, you can't help but to keep score. We can't lose Callie. This team can't lose someone again. We can't…" Aaron trailed off, his thoughts leaving Calliope and shifting to Haley. He hadn't been able to save Haley. He hadn't been able to get there in time. He couldn't have risked being too late to save Calliope.

Spencer simply nodded. They had wheeled Calliope through a set of double doors for x-rays and all he could do was sit and wait. Pulling his phone out, he dialed Emeline's phone number with no regard to the 'No Cell Phone' sign a few feet away, but no one answered. He was about to call again when a doctor walked in.

"Calliope Sellers?"

"Yes?" Spencer stood, Aaron right behind him.

"I can't tell you anything official, but she's going to be fine."

"Her ribs?" Aaron asked the question Spencer couldn't force past this throat.

"No permanent damage. She's in room two-eighty-eight. You can go see her." Spencer was gone before anyone could change their mind. He practically ran down the hall and through the open door. Calliope lay partially propped up on a pillow, partially asleep with an IV taped to her left hand. He had never seen her look so pale and tiny before, so fragile.

"Calliope."

Her name came out in a breathy way, more a whispered prayer than anything else. Closing the distance between where he stood and the side of her bed, Spencer grabbed her right hand. Calliope opened her eyes.

"Hey, Handsome." The words were tired, but relieved, and she squeezed his hand. "I want to go home."

"I know," Spencer wiped away her tears and kissed her cheek. "We can probably go home tomorrow."

"Stay with me?"

Spencer bit back a laugh. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Grandpa and Mammy?"

"On their way."

"Kaden?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "He wasn't hit anywhere life-threatening. He should be fine."

"Emeline?"

"She's fine. She just wants to talk to you. Try and sleep, Sweetheart," Spencer pulled a chair over without letting go of her hand and sat next to her bed. "Go to sleep."

"You're crying," Calliope extricated her hand from his to reach for his face, but Spencer pulled her hand down and scrubbed at his face himself.

"I could have lost you. I was terrified. I'm just… just having trouble calming my heart down long enough to regain a normal rhythm. How are you feeling? Pain?"

"A little. My ribs hurt, but the happy juice is dulling it. And making me sleepy."

"Go to sleep, Calliope."

By the time Ben and Brenda came bursting into the room with the doctor on their heels, Calliope had fallen asleep. Spencer raised his head from where it had been resting against her hand. Ben stooped over the bed on the other side and kissed his granddaughter's forehead.

"Thank you, God," Brenda whispered.

"She has six broken ribs, but no internal bleeding, no punctured lungs. X-rays look good and the ribs should heal without any problems. Ms. Sellers should be completely fine in eight weeks."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope slept through visits from everyone on the team except for Derek, who had yet to rematerialize, and every member of her family. Jill and Steven had arrived at five in the morning and now the hugely pregnant Jill was sitting uncomfortably in stiff, unyielding waiting room seats. Spencer had yet to leave Calliope's side, regardless of people's attempt to get him to get something to eat. He wanted to be here when she woke up. Plus, his heart might pound directly out of his chest if she was out of his sight.

"No one's answering, Spencer," Calliope cried as she handed him back the iPhone after trying both the numbers to reach Emeline several times each. Spencer put the phone on the plain, fiberboard nightstand next to her bed and pulled her close to his side, careful not to dislodge the IV taped to her hand or jostle her ribs. She leaned against him and he kissed her hair, trying to stay positive: Calliope was safe, sitting on the small bed right next to him and he was sure Emeline was just out having fun, blissfully unaware that anything was wrong in her universe.

"She's probably off playing with Yva," he said against her forehead as Brenda came back into the room with a cup of coffee in her hands and sat next to Ben. "We'll talk to her when she gets home."

"I want to talk to my baby," she sniffed into his shirt and his heart hurt. He couldn't fix this.

"I know. I do too."

Ben touched Calliope's hand from where he sat next to her bed. He knew the little hand so well. It had wormed its way into his on more occasions than he could remember and he would look down when it did to see a bright, happy face smiling at him with a joyful innocence that he hoped she would never lose, no matter what happened. Now, her fingers twisted through him and her smile was weak and eyes teary.

"Emeline's fine, Peanut," Brenda said. "She's just fine."

"I know, Mammy. I just want to hear her voice."

"I know, Callie."

Calliope closed her eyes again and leaned heavily against Spencer. Spencer smiled inwardly as he kiss the back of her head. Being able to feel her, tangibly know and see that she was safe… he needed that right now more than he needed oxygen.

"What's going to happen to Kaden?" Calliope tried to look at Spencer, but moving that way sent a jolt of pain through her body.

"We can talk about that later."

"I want to talk about it now. He didn't do anything wrong."

"He could have killed you."

"Not by choice!"

"Callie, calm down," Ben plead, "please, Peanut."

"They had him tied up. He tried to get me out, but there were two of them and he's not exactly Derek."

"What was he doing in an abandoned factory that was about to be torn down anyways?" Brenda asked and Calliope stopped.

"I… I don't know. I didn't think to ask."

"Sweetheart, he had an entire room in his apartment full of stuff about you and your family and Dahlia and… He's been stalking you your entire life. Even if he didn't intend for you to be hurt or kidnapped, for any of this to happen, he was the reason this happened. He's the reason those two even thought of this."

"Spencer, it's not his fault. He just… he… he wanted a family, but he was scared. And–"

"Please, Calliope. We can talk about this later."

"Spencer…"

"You can tell the police what happened in the basement when they come to talk to you and it's up to you whether or not you want to press charges against him, but the State might press charges anyways."

"Is the other two?"

"Both dead. One at the factory, the other in the ambulance."

"Good," Brenda muttered into her coffee.

"Room for two more?" Derek's voice caused the small family to look up.

"Emeline!"

"Maman!" Emeline leaned towards them from Derek's arms and Spencer was out of the bed and on his feet in a second. Taking his little girl from his brother's arms, Spencer felt his cheeks dampen again with fresh tears. Emeline latched her tiny arms around his neck. "Poppy, mwen renmen'w. Mwen renmen'w."

"Mwen renmen'w, Eme." Spencer was sure he was squeezing a little too tightly, but Emeline didn't say anything, just hugged him tightly.

"Spencer!" Calliope said his name and he turned, carrying Emeline over towards the hospital bed. Emeline leaned away from Spencer and he kissed her once.

"Maman's tummy hurts, okay, Princess? You have to be very, very careful."

"Give me my baby," Calliope cut off Spencer's words, holding her arms out impatiently and Emeline leaned so far towards her that she nearly toppled out of Spencer's arms. Smiling, he put Emeline down on the bed and the little girl climbed quickly into Calliope's arms.

"Oh, my baby girl," Calliope's voice verged dangerously on tears as she pulled Emeline even closer and buried her face in the crinkly brown hair, repeatedly kissing the top of her head. Emeline cuddled closer, latching her arms tightly around Calliope's neck and not letting go.

"What happened, Maman? You have ouchies."

"Maman's fine, Baby. She's fine. I love you so, so much, Eme."

"You didn't answer the phone," she sniffed and buried her face in her mother's neck.

"I'm so sorry, Princess. I'll never not answer my phone ever, ever again, okay?"

"Promise?"

"Promise. Mwen renmen'w, Eme."

"Mwen renmen'w, Maman. Mwen renmen'w."

Spencer sat hunched over in the chair on the opposite side of Calliope's hospital bed from Ben and Brenda, his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers threaded together. His connected hands covered his eyes and his thumbs cradled his head by each temple and Derek watched for a moment as his friends' shoulders shook. Penelope tugged on Derek's hand and pulled him out of the hospital room.

"Baby Girl, you are a miracle worker to pull that off," Derek whispered against her temple as the two walked back to the waiting room where the rest of their family sat together.

"It was your idea, Hot Stuff. I just worked the magic. How are you feeling? Still sucky?"

"I think Clooney and I might need to go back home for a weekend."

"That might be a good idea. A weekend in Chicago might be exactly what you need."

"Seeing those five together was exactly what I needed."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Yayayay Happiness. Everybody's happy. Happy, happy, joy, joy. Sing the happy, happy, happy, happy, happy, happy song. Sing the happy, happy, happy, happy soooooong. Dang. Now I wanna watch Rugrats. Thank goodness I... OWN THE ENTIRE SERIES ON DVD. Yay! It's my favourite cartoon in the entire world. Andy-ways... What's gonna happen with Kaden now? We shall see. Well, I know. You'll have to wait and see.**

**I love Diet Dr. Pepper. Just wanted to get that out there. I also love puppies and my Kindle and audiobooks and long car rides and fireplaces and monkeys and _Harry Potter_ and _Gilmore Girls_ and_ The Chronicles of Narnia_ and snow. Speaking of snow... ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE IN TEXAS. It was a snowpocalypse! A SNOWPOCALYPSE I TELL YOU! My tale of woe might not be all that impressive to you Northerners, but, here in Texas, it's intense. Because of my Dad, I know how to drive on ice and dig out a car and all that good stuff. One of the few perks of having the Dad I did. Unfortunately, no one else in Texas knows those things. Also - Texas' supply of snow plows is laughable. So I was trapped in my apartment while I was trying to finish moving because stupid people were doing stupid things and getting in wrecks right, left and center. So it was safer to stay trapped in my apartment.**

**I posted this on my Facebook page a few weeks ago, but I thought ya'll would like it, so I'm gonna share again. Also because it makes me laugh like LOL.**

**THE FOLLOWING IS A 100% TRUE STORY:**

**I love it when stuff like this happens - ya know, in real life rather than a movie or sitcom. So, three semesters ago, I was walking to class. Far, far away on the other side of the campus and I tend to read while I walk. Because I'm a menace to society. I was going over my Jazz notes and walking to whichever class I was walking to and I glance up, ya know, to make sure I'm not about to kill anybody or anything like that and, right in front of me, well, technically, he was a little to the right, BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT. I look up from my notecards and there's this guy.**

**Dressed up like the Cookie Monster.**

**And this was no cheap Party City costume either. This was a hardcore, he could have walked off the set of Sesame Street kind of costume. **

**HE HAD FUR**

**_FUR, I TELL YOU_**

**Mr. Cookie Monster aslo had a bright, neon pink poster board and it said, "GIVE ME YOUR COOKIES!" So I can't help it. I had a cookie in my bag for class and I gave it to him. And he like freaking engulfed me in a hug. He was _so soft_.**

**It gets better.**

**I'm leaving. Giggling a little, but walking away, cause I have class and all. And I hear this scuffling behind me, so, of course, I turn around. Mr. Cookie Monster throws his sign in the air and starts chasing after this poor girl eating a salad. She's _screaming bloody murder_ and this at least six-foot-tall, furry Cookie Monster is chasing her around the quad. I'm nearly dying at this point. I'm laughin' so hard I can't hardly breath. Lettuce is flying everywhere. And she's just screaming, "GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU FREAK, GET AWAY!" and she starts chucking her tomatos at him.**

**There was no way she could get away from him. I mean, she wasn't short or anything, but he was like a mammoth or something. Huge. So he catches her pretty easily once he actually wanted to and he just consumes her in a hug. **

**_and then_ bellows "COOKIE MONSTER LIKES VEGGIES NOW! NOOMMM!" He waited for a dramatic pause and then shouts "GIVE ME COOKIES!", picks up his sign and walked away like nothing happened.**

**It was hysterical. I had cramps from laughing. I nearly DIED. It was so working giving him my cookie. So worth it.**

**And that girl... I don't know who she is, but she will never eat a salad in that quad _ever again_.**

**I hope you like the chapter (and my awesome cookie monster story) and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia **


	50. Chapter 49

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Love is a force more formidable than any other. It is invisible – it cannot be seen or measured, yet it is powerful enough to transform you in a moment and offer you more joy than any material possession could." – Barbara de Angelis_

o o o o

27 September 2010

Calliope walked slowly, gingerly, out of the bedroom and into the living room. She had been home from the hospital for a little over a week now and Spencer had barely let her move. She needed out of the bedroom or she was going to crack. The aspirin and painkillers helped with the pain from her rib, but, honestly, it she wasn't as weak as Spencer was treating her and she really wanted him to go back to work. She hated being babied.

Right now, though, she saw him lying asleep on the couch with Emeline asleep on his chest and she smiled. Spencer face was half obscured by a pillow and his large hand lay on Emeline's back, subconsciously making sure she wouldn't roll off. Both Emeline's arms were limply laced around his neck and a small puddle of drool pooled on Spencer's purple polo shirt beneath Emeline's open mouth. Retreating quietly back into the bedroom, Calliope grabbed the tiny, pink Nikon from her top dresser drawer. Just as quietly, she snuck back out of the bedroom and snapped a few pictures of them. Maybe a few more days… than she would insist he return to work.

Holding her left side as it twinged, she walked past father and daughter towards the kitchen. Calliope grabbed her bottle of Advil from the cupboard and tilted two teal liquid gels into her hands, downing them quickly with a swig of water and a wince. Resting her elbows on the counter, she dropped her head into the hands, her long hair falling over her shoulders. Calliope moved one hand to touch the hair around her face. In what had probably been the most vanity-fueled moment in her entire life, she had spent six and a half hours having her hair stylist, Janet, remove the duct tape from her hair as carefully as possible so she wouldn't have to cut her hair in a drastically short pixie cut. She was reaching for her ribs again when she felt a small hand sneak into hers and she looked down. Emeline rubbed at her eyes sleepily and Calliope smiled.

"Hey, Princess," Calliope bent down and picked her up, kissing the smooth forehead as the little girl snuggled her head into her mother's shoulder. "You sure wore Poppy out. Did you have a good nap?"

Emeline nodded and fingered the gold quatrefoil necklace hanging around Calliope's neck. "Poppy's sleeping."

"Well, you are pretty tiring sometimes. You exhausted Poppy yesterday too, didn't you? I would _never_ exhaust Poppy, but you, little miss, you're just a bundle of endless energy he can't keep up with."

"You make Poppy falled asleep too."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Calliope smiled. "I am pure joy and sunshine every waking hour." She could hear Spencer stifle tired laughter from where he still lay on his back on the couch. Emeline must have woken him up when she woke and climbed down.

"Hungry," Emeline's fingers dropped Calliope's necklace and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

"It is close to dinner time. Grandpa and Grandma should be here soon. Can you wait until then or do you want some grapes?"

"'Rple g'apes?" the little girl mumbled around her thumb.

"I think we have some purple grapes," Calliope kissed her head. "Brianne brought some a few days ago."

None of the three had left the safety of their home since their return to Fredericksburg, in fact they had only been out in public in order to drive from Dahlia to home. They hadn't driven, technically – Ben and Brenda had driven them and stayed overnight. Calliope's parents hadn't returned to Dahlia, but rather they had been staying in the home they owned on the other side of Fredericksburg and spending much of their time with Spencer, Calliope and Emeline.

While Calliope had been busy focusing on Emeline, Spencer had pushed himself off of the couch and padded silently over to them. Quietly, he wrapped his arms around Calliope's shoulders. He pressed a kiss to Emeline's head and kissed Calliope with enough passion that her knees wobbled a little and she leaned back against his chest. For what felt like the millionth time since the fifteenth, Spencer shook with relief that both his girls were safe and within his grasp.

"I love you," he said to whichever wanted to accept.

"I love you too."

"Mwen renmen'w."

"She's too young to get Gilmore Girl references." This sentence was for Calliope alone and she giggled.

"Never too early to start."

The alarm beeped and Spencer kissed Calliope again before walking quickly to the cabinet in the kitchen and opening it. He clicking to the front gate and saw Ben's car pushed through the hoards of media cars waiting for Calliope to leave the privacy of their home. Spencer hit the button and watched as Ben's car came through gate and it closed after him. They had already had media try to sneak in after a car, but three charges of trespassing had kept the rest of them firmly behind the black bars.

Eventually, they would get bored and leave. Hopefully. Either that or one or both of them would loose it and _they_ would be on receiving end of the charges filed.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

29 September, 2010

"When's Spencer coming back to work?" Emily asked Penelope as she poured coffee into her mug and sat next to the redheaded tech kitten pouring over a pile of magazines. "Are you seriously reading those?"

"She's our Lucy! It's our job to make sure I don't need to go Hulk and reduce these rag's computers to nothing more than gigantic paperweights and doorstoppers."

"You can do that?"

"Em, I could take the Pentagon back to eighteen forty-three."

"The Pentagon opened in nineteen forty-three."

"I know."

"Dangerous woman, you are. Are they bad?"

"The Pentagon?" Penelope asked distractedly.

"The magazines, PG," Emily laughed. She reached out and grabbed one of the magazines from Penelope's stack. Glancing down at the front over of _Star_, she thinned her lips. Sure enough, Calliope's smiling face took up roughly ninety percent of the page. In big white print, the caption read 'Calliope Sellers: American Princess. Her fairytale, kingdom, Prince Charming and daring rescue.'

Emily nearly gagged. Penelope looked up. "Ah. _Star_. That one's particularly ridiculous."

"What's it say?"

"The same thing they all say: a whole bunch of nothing. It recounts her life, gives a brief history of Dahlia, makes speculation about why she's never in the media, does she have something to hid, yada yada, and then it goes for the juicy stuff – her and Boy Genius and Emeline. Oh. And the long-lost brother, of course. There's, like, two whole pages devoted to whether or not they were trying to hid Kaden or pay off his mom. It's so ridiculous. I can't wait for Sheen or Lohan to go back to rehab so they'll leave our family alone."

"No kidding. Are people still calling you?"

"Oh yeah," Penelope nodded. "I'm seriously thinking about changing my phone number. Or sending them all viruses to crash their phones. One of the two. Maybe both."

Derek paused over them and groaned, "Please tell me you two aren't actually reading those."

"Please don't tell me you haven't. They have to have been all over the supermarkets in Chicago too."

"They were."

"And you didn't look at any of them?"

"Nope. Better things to do then read trash." Derek tugged the magazine from Penelope's hands and grabbed the one Emily held before picking up the stack on the table and dropping the lot in the trashcan. "And so do you. Besides, we have the real thing."

"Has Strauss closed the investigation yet?" Emily asked.

"I'm not sure. I think so."

"Has-has Spencer been suspended?" Emily looked at Derek when she asked and Penelope's head jerked up.

"Suspended? I thought he was just taking time off."

"He is," Derek assured the redhead. "Strauss didn't suspend him. Were you worried about that?"

"Well, yeah. A little. You know how much of a stickler Strauss is about rules and all that. We all know that, _technically_, we shouldn't have been on Callie's case. Especially after what happened with Hotch and Haley. I don't know…. I was just worried Reid would get in trouble and then try to hid it or something."

"I'm not in trouble," Spencer plopped his messenger bag down, causing all of them to jump.

"Reid!" Penelope jumped up and essentially tackled the gangly genius.

"Hi, García," Spencer awkwardly patted her back.

"Cal kicked you out, huh?" Derek laughed.

"She said it was either come back to work or be smothered with a pillow," he shrugged, picking at the rolled up cuff of his blue dotted shirt. Penelope started laughing and Derek ruffled Spencer's hair with a huge smile on his face.

"Figured it would come down to that. How are Cal and Emeline doing?"

"Well. Really well. Calliope's ornery–"

"Always a good sign," Emily interrupted, downing the last of her coffee. "You know something's wrong when Callie's complacent."

"And little Eme?" Penelope asked eagerly.

"Very happy. She's enthralled with the clothes you brought over. She's been walking around, well, trying to walk around in Calliope's heels and the orange dress you gave her."

"Picture?"

"Not on me," Spencer shook his head. "Sorry."

"What kind of dad are you?" Derek teased. "It's your job to carry twenty pounds worth of pictures wherever you go."

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but Hotch's voice interrupted. "BAU team. Conference room in ten."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Emeline shrieked when Perses jumped up as she was brushing his fur and ran to the window to bark madly at the squirrel perched on the porch railing. Dropping the brush, she pushed herself to her feet and ran after him. Calliope watched from where she sat at the breakfast bar with her sketchpad and box of Prismacolour pencils. Smiling, she added texture to Emeline's hair and used her pinky to smudge the coloured wax in some places.

Dragging Perses back by his purple collar, Emeline pulled the dog back to where she had dropped the brush and pushed on his back until he was plopped down on the hardwood. Perses stayed where he was supposed to, but his eyes were trained on the window. Eventually, Emeline got bored of putting bows in the dog's fur and stood up, waltzing over to where Calliope sat.

"Up!" Emeline held her arms up and Calliope put down her pencil to pick her up. "Can I colour too?"

"Yes, you may," Calliope ripped a page from her sketch pad and placed it in front of the little girl as Emeline dug into the box of colored pencils and came out with as many as would fit in her pudgy little hands. Emeline coloured happily, something that could possibly be a house or a bowl of spaghetti or a dog or maybe Spencer, while Calliope continued working on her own sketch, adding tint to Emeline's lips and eyes.

'The Kid from Red Bank' played from her iPhone and Calliope reached for the mobile. Aaron's name and photograph. Hitting the green button, she held the phone to her ear and stroked the top of Emeline's head, smoothing her hair down. "Hey Aaron."

"Hi Callie."

"I'll pick up Jack from preschool. Where are you going this time?"

"The Midwest. Victims in Iowa and Nebraska."

"Alright. Be careful and don't worry about Jack," Calliope pressed a kiss to Emeline's head.

"Thanks, Callie." They exchanged a few more sentences before hanging up and Calliope glanced at the time on her phone. Jack's preschool got out at eleven, so they would need to leave in half an hour to drive to Washington. "Hey, Princess Eme. Guess what? We're going to go to Washington and pick up your cousin Jack. And Jack is going to come here and stay with us."

"Why?" Emeline didn't look up from the spaghetti-Spencer-house-dog she was currently using a purple pencil to perfect.

"Well, Poppy and your aunts and uncles have to go away to catch the bad guys, so Jack is going to come here."

"I don't want him to come here," Emeline pouted, still not looking up from her picture.

"Why not, Princess?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"I don't like him."

"How do you know that? You haven't met Jack yet, Eme."

"I know."

"Then maybe you will like Jack and you just don't know it yet," Calliope smiled, turning Emeline so she could see her face.

"No. I don't like him."

"Well, that's too bad, Princess, because we're going to get him in a little while, so you need to get ready. Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

"No," Emeline shook her head. "Maman, I don't want to go."

"Sorry, Baby. We have to go get him."

"Can't we watch the Monsters?"

"We can watch Monsters, Inc. when we get back with Jack."

"My movie! He's not allowed to watch my movie," Emeline crossed her arms and stuck her bottom lip out as far as physically possible.

"So what's Jack going to do? Is he going to stay in his bedroom until Uncle Aaron gets back?"

"No. Outside."

"Oh, so Jack can't even come inside the house?" Emeline shook her head forcefully, whipping her pigtails out on either side of her head. "But what if it rains?"

"He can have a um'bella."

"Ohhh," Calliope tried not to laugh, but a little laughter leaked into her voice. "He can have an umbrella?"

"Yes," Emeline nodded seriously and reached for a new pencil.

"Can he have dinner?"

"Peanut butter sammich."

"And what are you going to have for dinner?"

"Sketty and meatballs!"

"Dinosaur meatballs?"

"Yes! I want a saurus meatball."

"Okay. But first we have to go get your cousin," Calliope scooped Emeline up and put her down on the floor. Holding her hand, she led the little girl to the bathroom. "Let's go potty and then we'll go get Jack and have some lunch."

"I don't wanna get Jack."

"I know, Baby."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"And those pictures are in your personal files because I didn't think they needed the help of ten-eighty-p," Garcia clicked the television screen back to the computer's wallpaper and looked at the team through her green, plastic glasses

"His chest was opened. Organ's disturbed. Intestines removed," Rossi flipped through the pictures, factually listing off what jumped off the page at him.

Garcia looked a little nauseous and like she was trying desperately not to vomit. This was definitely not a part of JJ's job that she enjoyed doing. She missed JJ. "That's awesome. Could we please leave the gross part of the conversation for the plane?"

"The father of the Archer family had multiple stab wounds, but no dissection," Reid's eyebrows furrowed together.

"So, he went from piquerism to _this_ overnight?" Prentiss asked in disbelief.

"Two families in two days… he's on a spree." Rossi looked at Hotch.

"Wheels up in thirty," Hotch closed his folder and stood. The rest of the team straightened their papers and pictures and slipped them back into their files, thinking about the case and what they needed to do before they left in half an hour. Reid's hand was already in his pocket and fumbling his cell phone out to call Calliope. Prentiss stood, straightening her purple blouse for a second and walked towards the door, but something in the bullpen caught her eye and she stopped.

"Hey Morgan," Prentiss stared at Ellie Spicer down in the bullpen as Morgan stopped next to her and stared as well, his mouth partially open in disbelief. Ellie saw them watching her through the window and gave a little wave. "You didn't know she was coming…"

Morgan just shook his head in shock. "How did she get here?"

"Tell Eme I love her. I'll call when we land, alright?" Reid stopped on the other side of Prentiss, looking at the file in his hands as he spoke on the phone. "Okay. I love you, Sweetheart. I'll talk to you later." Reid slipped the phone back into his pocket and looked up. "What is Ellie Spicer doing here?"

"I have no idea," Morgan said as he turned towards the door and hurried out, running his hand over the back of his head.

"What the hell is he gonna do…?" Prentiss trailed off and she turned to follow Morgan, Reid right on her heels.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope unbuckled Emeline from her car seat and pulled her from the car, settling the little girl on her hip and closing the door with her elbow. Keeping her head down, she subconsciously touched the purple scarf covering her hair as she hurried down the street to Jack's school.

"Maman, do we _have_ to get Jack?"

"Yes, we do," Calliope nodded and pushed the door open. "Hi Meredith."

"Hi, Ms. Sellers. Haven't seen you in a while. How are you doing?" The brunette behind the front desk smiled and stood up, her eyes far more curious than her voice.

"I'm doing fine, Meredith. How are you?" Calliope tried to put Emeline down on her feet, but the little girl wouldn't let go of her neck. "Okay, okay… Okay, you're all right, honey. Eme, I have to put you down for a second to sign the paper."

"No paper, no Jack," Emeline said crossly, dangerously close to a temper tantrum.

"We are going to bring Jack home no matter what, Emeline Noel, so I suggest you stop whining," Calliope shifted Emeline to her other side and picked up the pen in her left hand. She held Emeline securely as she bent over and signed Jack out. Meredith signed next to Calliope's signature. Emeline pouted, but didn't say anything. Sure the battle wasn't over, Calliope took Emeline over to sit in a chair along the wall while other moms started trickling into the building. "Emeline, Baby Girl, we're going to get Jack and then we're going to go get some lunch and then we're going to go home, okay?"

"No Jack."

"Sorry, Princess. I have to take care of Jack just like I have to take care of you. He's my nephew and I love him very much."

"My maman."

"Yes, Baby. I'm your maman. But I'm also Jack's aunt," Calliope kissed Emeline's round cheek. "I love you both all the way to the moon."

"Aunt Callie!" Calliope looked up at Jack's happy voice and Emeline latched her arms more tightly around Calliope neck. Jack ran away from the teacher that was slowly herding a classroom full of five year olds into the rotunda and straight towards his aunt. Ignoring Emeline completely, Jack dropped his Incredibles backpack and climbed into Calliope's lap, nearly dislodging Emeline in the process. Emeline started crying and Jack hugged Calliope, who felt close to crying herself.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The entire car ride from the airport to Council Bluffs, Spencer stared out the window. His mind wasn't fully on the case. It wasn't on the case at all. Dave drove without making any attempt at conversation, case-related or otherwise. He knew where Spencer's thoughts were and he also knew he had nothing helpful to say that would assuage the man's thoughts. Serial killers and divorces: that was all on which David Rossi was an expert.

"She's going to be alright, right?"

"Emeline or Callie?" Dave asked without taking his eyes from the road.

Spencer paused for a moment before answering. "Both."

"Well, Callie has a pretty decent track record so far."

"What do you mean?" Spencer finally looked away from the window.

"Well, she's been with you for two years now. Callie's stayed through The Reaper, through your knee, through two years of cases, through anthrax, Haley's murder, Brenda hating your existence, a protection detail, a broken wrist, a non-pregnancy, Emeline…" Dave turned right when the GPS instructed. "She's stayed through all that. Why do you think she'd leave now?"

"I'm not thinking she's going to leave, Rossi. I mean, I hope she's not going to leave," Spencer picked at his cuticles because he had nothing else to do with his hands. "I don't know what I'd do if Calliope left. I'm just worried if she's going to be okay alone with Emeline and Jack with people still trying to follow her around and take pictures of her."

"She has an entire support system there, and every one of them will come running if she needs help," Dave glanced at Spencer for a moment before returning his eyes to the road. "J.J. is there and so is Will and Jessica Brookes. They're an hour away. And that Brianne person whose been bringing you three food. She's not going to suddenly decide Callie's on her own. Her grandparents are still in Fredericksburg, aren't they?"

"No," Spencer shook his head. "They finally went back to Williamsburg yesterday."

"Well, I'm sure they would come back if Callie asked them. Not to mention her cousins and her sisters," Dave turned down another street and then made an immediate left. Slowing to a stop in front of a two story house, Dave put the SUV in park and pulled up the parking break. "Reid, Callie will be fine. And Emeline will be fine too. We'll catch this guy as quickly as we can and you can get home to them."

"This is the first time Emeline's going to be going to sleep in her bed here and I won't be there to tuck her in or kiss her goodnight. What's she going to think when I'm not there?"

"She's going to think that her daddy is the bravest daddy in the whole world. And Callie's going to tell her about all the good things you do, tell her why you left at all, all the people you've helped keep safe and that everything you do is to keep her safe. She's going to know how much you love her."

"Poppy."

"Hmmm?"

"Emeline calls me 'poppy,' not 'daddy.'"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Calliope! Calliope!"

Calliope ducked her head down and ignored the people calling her name. Jack hurried along next to her, his hand firmly in hers, and Emeline stared over Calliope's shoulder at the people following them. Internally, Calliope's thoughts were a string of endless expletives too foul even for HBO, much less the ears of five or three year olds. They had made it to and through lunch at Alexios' Greek Restaurant without this happening, but someone had seen them walking to the car and shouted her name.

"Aunt Callie, what's going on?" Jack asked, but kept pace with her, keeping hold of her hand.

"I'll explain when we get in the car, okay, Buddy?"

"Calliope!"

"Maman, make them go away," Emeline's voice was shrill in her ear.

"I'm trying, Baby." Totting two children, she was no match for the gawkers and their camera phones. People shouted questions as she got Jack as close as she could without picking him up. Calliope kept her mouth firmly shut as she clicked the SUV open, but Emeline started yelling, "Go away! Leave my maman alone!"

Jack climbed up into the car and his booster seat while Calliope strapped Emeline into her car seat. She checked the straps quickly before kissing Emeline's cheek, pushing the lock down and closing the door between her daughter and the cameras. Jack was waiting for Calliope to strap him in. Jack was kissed and locked in before Calliope turned to the cameras. A few really cameras faced her this time, not just camera phones and flashed popped before her eyes.

"Ple–" A particularly bright flash cut her off mid sentence and she blinked rapidly. "Please leave my family and I alone. Thank you." With that, she turned and escaped into the car, ignoring people shouting at her and the way her ribs were throbbing from carrying Emeline. Calliope nearly forgot to buckle her seatbelt, but caught herself. Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths before putting the car in drive and slowly leaving the parking lot.

"Aunt Callie, why were they following us?"

"After the bad guys tried to hurt me, people…" Calliope searched for the right words. She knew better than to lie, because she would be caught and trying to explain herself out of the lie would be more difficult than just telling a g-rated version of the truth in the first place. "People want to make sure that I'm okay and that my family is okay too."

Jack was quiet, thoughtful, before he spoke again. "People didn't chase Daddy and I after George took Mommy."

"Jack, do you remember the big white house from the party?" Jack nodded. "People are more interested because that's where I grew up. I… I have a lot of money, so people want to know all about it."

The little boy was quiet, accepting the explanation, but not actually understanding it. Emeline started singing a song from The Lion King, which they had watched last night, and Calliope immediately latched onto it. Smiling and laughing, she sang with Emeline, hoping Jack would join in soon. She didn't have to wait long.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Two shrill voices were yelling and fighting like they had been doing it their entire life. Calliope closed her eyes and leaned forward, groaning to herself. They had been at it since they had gotten home. Emeline didn't want to share anything, even things that belonged to Jack, and Jack was tired to Emeline following him around and taking things from him and Calliope was near her breaking point and close to calling J.J. in tears.

Putting the knife down on the cutting board, Calliope hurried out of the kitchen for what felt like the millionth time that hour, her respect for stay-at-home moms increasing infinity. "Emeline! Jack! Come here right now!"

Something crashed and two sets of feet stampeded towards her. "Sit down." Calliope pointed towards the table and the two ran over, Jack hopped into his chair and Emeline climbed awkwardly, almost falling, until Calliope helped her. "Okay. You two have been at it all day. You both had been stop it right now or I will call your fathers. Do you think they'd be happy right now?"

"No," Jack shook his head and Emeline copied his action.

"I want you to sit still while I finish dinner."

Spaghetti and meatballs were on the table rather quickly and without fuss from either child. Calliope could tell a full day of bickering had worn both of them out, because baths, phone calls to Aaron and Spencer, and bedtime passed without any real incident. Emeline went to bed first and Calliope let Jack stay up a little later.

"Why is she here?" Jack asked as Calliope tucked him in and kissed his forehead.

"She's my little girl, Jack. That's why she's here. I know it's confusing, Buddy."

"She wasn't here before."

"That's because she was in Haiti with her grandma. Remember when we talked about that?"

"Yes. She's going back, right?"

"Yes," Calliope nodded sadly. "Emeline will be going back to Haiti soon."

"Good. I don't like her."

"Why not, Jack-Jack?" Calliope brushed back Jack's hair.

"You're my aunt," Jack pouted. "She takes you away."

"Baby, I love you to the moon. Emeline doesn't change that."

"I didn't get to play with you at all today."

"Well, we could have all played together if you and Emeline hadn't been fighting all day," Calliope smiled and kissed his forehead. "I promised your mommy that I would take care of you and I always will. But I never promised that I would love you and I do, baby, so, so much. You're my nephew and I will never, ever stop loving you."

"Can I sleep with you?" His big hazel eyes met hers and she nodded, picking him up and carrying him out of his bedroom. Jack curled up in the bed and was almost asleep by the time Calliope came back in her pajamas. Jack was sound asleep when Emeline came running into the bedroom, her stuffed monkey bumping along the floor after her.

"You're supposed to be asleep, little girl," Calliope picked her up and settled her down in the bed on the other side of her.

"I miss Poppy."

"I miss Poppy too."

"When's he coming home?"

"As soon as he catches the bad guys, Poppy will come home," Calliope kissed Emeline's forehead and whispered the little girl to sleep. Both children were long asleep when Calliope's phone started ringing. Terrified they would wake up, Calliope snatched the phone and answered. "Spencer?"

_ "Hey, Sweetheart."_

"I miss you, I miss you, I miss you."

_ "I miss you too, Calliope. How was your day?" Spencer leaned back against the headboard of the hotel bed and closed his eyes for a minute. _

"Long and loud. Lots of yelling. God, I miss you."

_ "I'm sorry, Sweetheart."_

"I'm currently in bed with a very large dog and two other humans and neither of them are you."

_ "I better be the only other human in that bed," Spencer joked._

"Well, you are whenever Luke Danes isn't here."

_ "Well, he was there before I was."_

"Luke doesn't cuddle as well as he used to. I got spoiled with you."

_ Spencer smiled happily. "Hopefully I'll be home soon. Maybe tomorrow."_

"I'm counting the seconds."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

30 September, 2010

"No, I'm not pressing charges," Calliope said into the phone as she spread peanut butter on bread and laid it on slices with strawberry jam. "No. Stop it, Brendon. I'm not pressing charges against Kaden. I know you're – Brendon, stop and listen to me. I'm not pressing charges against my brother. Thank you very much for everything you've done for me and my family, basically my entire life, but you've already done everything we need done right now. Okay. I'll talk to you later. Give my love to Ann. Bye.

"Jack! Emeline! Come get your snack!" Calliope yelled from the kitchen, putting the phone on its' charger and cutting the sandwiches in quarters. Emeline and Jack came running from Jack's bedroom.

"Can we eat in front of the TV?" Jack asked. "Please, please, please?"

"Okay. Don't feed Perses." Calliope watched the two carry their paper plates into the living room and sit on the floor among hordes of discarded toys. The gate alarm beeped and Calliope opened the cabinet in confusion. No one was supposed to be here. No one had called to tell her they were coming over and Spencer, though back in Virginia, wouldn't be home until after work.

The feed was already on the gate camera and Calliope watched as a red GTI drove through the gate and waited until the gate was close to continue through the trees towards the clearing. Calliope didn't bother putting her shoes on, simply ran from the kitchen to the front porch and waited, practically dancing in her spot.

The garage door started opening before the GTI made it out of the trees, but the driver saw her and parked in the middle of the drive instead of pulling all the way in. Calliope jumped off the porch as Spencer got out and smiled. He caught her easily and she buried her face in his shirt.

"I love you so much," Calliope's voice was muffled and she held on so tightly he probably couldn't breath very well, but he didn't complain. Spencer buried his face in her hair and took a deep breath.

"I love you too."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Emeline was tucked in and sound asleep later that night when Spencer lay back in his bed and pulled Calliope snuggly against him. "How did it go?"

"Okay. Second day was better than the first. The first day they hated each other," Calliope closed her eyes as Spencer ran his fingers through her hair and flipped through the news channels. The volume was on mute and the closed captioning told him what was being discussed.

"You were on the news yesterday," Spencer said, thinking about the pictures of her, Jack and Emeline trying to outrun the cameras accompanying the newscasters recounting the old news, speculating whether or not Kaden would be charged with anything or if the Sellers would ever respond to the media.

"Mmmph." She didn't give a real acknowledgment and Spencer let the subject drop as he stopped the channel on E! Entertainment where Calliope was the current star of the hour. He didn't like the attention, but he wanted, needed, to keep track of what went on in their lives, especially the things he couldn't control. He didn't want to be caught off-guard.

* * *

**A/N:**

**SPRIIIIING BREAAAAAAK! **

**I know yall are mad at me for taking so long between updates, but I really do have my reasons. Part is because of school, part of it is it's difficult to write the story sometimes, but it's mostly because soon, the story line of _Mystery Muse_ spoils the ending of _Cracked Concrete_ and we can't have that happening. So I'm slowing down _Mystery Muse_ so _Cracked Concrete _finishes before it's ending is revealed. Not that that makes yall any happier. But, just know, there is an actual reason and it's a valid one.**

**IT'S FREAKING SPRING BREAK! I'm so danged excited. ****On Tuesday I went hiking with my BFFs Kaff and Squishie and Kaff's brother and cousin. It was epic. I slipped and wiped out, covering my butt in dirt. Classic me. Then the three boys got us lost and Kaff and I just rolled our eyes. Boys. And then we went to Greek food for lunch followed by GELATOOOOOOOO. OMG. Best. Gelato. Ever. I love my life. And then, on Thursday, we went to go see Rango. It was okay. I didn't think it was particularly great. And then I nearly twisted my ankle in the parking lot. Win. Tonight,** Mum, Aunt Numero Uno, Aunt Numero Dos and I are going to Houston to the Ballet tonight! We're going to see Sleeping Beauty. I'm so excited.

**I don't wanna talk about 6x16 "Lauren" just yet, cause I don't want to spoil anything for people who haven't seen it yet. It's been less then 24 hours. So I'll just say a few of the things I posted on Facebook while watching it: 1. "omfg.," 2. "J.J. IS A BAMF!," 3. "/sobs," 4. "Gubler has awesome talents," and 5. "I FUCKING KNEW IT!" BAM! I called the ending over a month ago. I'm so danged good. But seriously, the episode was amazing.**

**My boys in blue are freaking ahhhhhmaaaaaaaazing. They're leading the league with 103 points, first team to 100% cinch a playoff spot this year, won the Division... ON FREAKIN MARCH 16!, Danny Boy is leading the points race, his twin brother Henrick is leading the assists (3rd in the points race) after winning the points race last year, our injured D are on task to return in time for playoffs, my crush on Cory Schneider is about reaching the institutional point... All goes according to schedule! STANLEY CUP 2011! It's also Cory's birthday today! Happy 25th!**

**I'm watching player interviews after the practice for tonight's hockey game (I'm missing it for the ballet), so I need to go pay attention to Bobby Luo talking about the fact that we just lost our Manny. /sobs. I love Manny - get better soon! **

**Anyways - Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**


	51. Chapter 50

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_[Peace] is the highest and most strenuous act of the soul, but an entirely harmonious act, in which all our powers and affections are blending in a beautiful proportion, and sustain and perfect one another. It is more than the silence after storms. It is as the concord of all melodious sounds… an alliance of love with all beings, a sympathy with all that is pure and happy, a surrender of every separate will and interest, a participation of the spirit and life of the universe… This is peace, and the true happiness of [humanity]." – William Ellery Channing_

o o o o

7 October, 2010

"Hi-i. Uh, my, um, my name is Spencer. I've… I've been clean for one thousand, four hundred, thirty days, nine hours and," Spencer glanced at the clock on the wall of the church, "fifty-four minutes."

"Hello, Spencer." The greeting was spattered and varied, some 'Hi,' some 'hey,' and all of them were accompanied by slight smiles and stifled laughter at the preciseness with which Spencer calculated his sobriety. They all knew Spencer. He came to one meeting with the Beltway Clean Cops a month, but came to whichever meeting his caseload allowed rather than a specific meeting like most. Because of that, everyone in the room knew him, knew his preciseness and strange quirks.

"In a month, I'll have been sober for exactly four years."

"Congratulations," There was clapping and even some light cheering.

"Yeah, thanks," Spencer blushed a little, embarrassed by the attention but happy in the knowledge of his success. "I've, uh… lately, I've been struggling. I haven't in a long time, but this past month, I've had trouble, started craving again. I've realized, I mean, I uh… a long time ago I realized that my girlfriend has sort of been the reason I haven't struggled too much with cravings for dilaudid. I know that's dangerous, pinning your sobriety on someone else. I mean, she's not the _reason_ I'm sober. I mean, she's _a_ reason, of course, I love her, she'd leave if I wasn't sober, but I'm, uh, I'm sober because I don't want to be addicted to anything, much less a drug. I'm rambling."

The men in various uniforms and suits waited patiently while Spencer tried to sort his thoughts. He came in with a speech, planned everything out, knew exactly what he was going to say, and then proceeded to fumble over every other word out of his mouth, just like he did every time he spoke.

"She's a big part of why it hasn't been so hard. I go home from cases and the-the death and the-the _things_ people do to one another and I don't have to find an escape. I don't need to escape. I don't want to. She's always there. Even when she's angry with me, she's there.

"I… I almost lost her. She's okay, she's home. But everyone keeps following us. People keep trying to take our picture. We go to Target and someone takes our picture buying paper towels. I took my daughter to get ice cream at the ice cream shop by our house and the people I thought I would never have to worry about acted like they'd never met me before. A few people even took out their phones and took pictures. Calliope wasn't even with us.

"Our lives are being dissected and not just what we're doing now, but everything they can find no matter how long ago it happened. I feel like… I feel like we're the last of some endangered animal in a zoo and everyone wants to stare with their faces pressed against the glass."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer walked into the house and closed the door behind him, letting The Go-Go's 'Tonite' hit him like one of Derek's rugby tackles. Perses ran at him, barking happily and jumping up on his hind legs to hung Spencer, his paws on Spencer's thin shoulders. Perses balanced awkwardly as Spencer tried not to fall backwards under the dog's weight.

"Nice to see you too, boy," Spencer tried to pushed to the dog down and managed to succeed just as the song ending and Emeline barreled down the hallway in a bright orange and pink tutu over an orange leotard, sparkling purple tiara and a rainbow painted on her face. "Hey there, Princess."

Emeline planted a wet, slobbery kiss on his lips as he scooped her up in his arms. "Maman said I could stay up and play with you when you got home," Emeline said factually, joyfully hugging his neck and trying to wiggle out of his arms at the same time.

"I did not," Calliope raised her eyebrows at the little girl and crossed her arms over her chest. "I said you could stay up until Poppy came home and then it was bedtime."

"Were you trying to trick me?" Spencer looked down at Emeline, who didn't look in his eyes when she said 'no.' "Let's get to bed, young lady."

"I'm not sleepy."

"Oh yes you are," Calliope laughed, leaning against the wall, her pale blue Washington and Lee hoodie played amusingly against her small orange denim shorts. Stopping to kiss Calliope, Spencer carried Emeline towards her bedroom, Calliope following right behind. Emeline was changed into her pajamas and snuggled and kissed, read to and tucked in and kissed again before the light was turned out and the nightlight on.

The couple tiptoed away from Emeline's bedroom and, when they got to their door, Calliope pulled Spencer inside. Calliope closed the door before Spencer really had a handle on what was going on. Her lips were soft, but insistent once she'd pulled his head down to hers. Spencer wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back. His back pressed against the wall, the sharp corner of a frame digging into his shoulder blade, but Spencer ignored it.

Calliope's fingers attacked the buttons on his sweater and Spencer groaned but grabbed her fingers in his hand. Shaking his head, Spencer broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. Nearly stamping her foot, she pulled her hands from his and glared at him.

"Your ribs…" Spencer started weakly.

"Are fine," Calliope continued with a hint of sarcasm, hands on her hips in annoyance. "This isn't like giving birth, Spencer. We don't have to wait six weeks. Every time I try and kiss you, you pull away after five seconds like you think I'm going to give you gonorrhea."

"Gonorrhea affects the–"

"I know!" Calliope turned, frustrated, and walked from the room, leaving the door hanging open behind her. Spencer leaned back against the wall, trying to fill his lungs completely. He needed a shower. Preferably a cold one. Maybe two.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

It was with damp hair that Spencer finally left their bedroom, almost afraid she would throw something at him if he showed his face too soon. A large bowl of ice cream and Gummi Worms, a delicacy Spencer still found disgusting, assured his safety, but he kept a sizable margin between himself and where Calliope sat on the couch as he walked past to the kitchen.

"There's Kaeng Ta-Ley, Panaeng curry, brown rice and dumplings in the fridge for you."

"You're not angry with me?" Spencer ventured the question as he pulled the take-out cartons from the fridge and placed them on the granite countertop next to the plate and utensils left for him.

"Ask me that again when you stop acting like a monk and making me a reluctant nun." Calliope mumbled around the mouthful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream and gummy candy.

Spencer opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it and kept quiet as he pressed the quick-start button on the microwave. He watched impatiently as the plate circled the machine as slowly as ever. With food in hand, he walked over and tentatively sat next to her. Calliope shoveled another spoonful into her mouth.

Neither spoke as Bill Cosby whisked Phylicia Rashad away on a 'You're Not a Mother Night,' though Calliope smirked and laughed at the sitcom-worthy antics well after her ice cream was gone. When the show ended, Calliope rinsed her bowl and stuck it in the dishwasher, walking past him and to the bedroom without a word. Spencer swallowed the last mussel and few scallops on his plate before following in Calliope's steps.

When he got into the bathroom, she was already changed into his old CalTech sweatshirt, the one she liked to use as a nightgown, and brushing her teeth over the sink. He watched for a few seconds before grabbing his own toothbrush. Calliope gathered her hair over one side of her shoulders and spit into the sink. She was smearing some fancy overnight lotion on her face as Spencer wiped his mouth dry. Leaning back against the wall, he watched.

He loved watching her doing this like this. It seemed silly, he knew, but, no matter how many times he watched her, the simple intimacy of the moment was never lost on him. It was silly. There was nothing contemporarily sexy about the moment; she wasn't in a pair of four-inch stilettos and risqué lace lingerie, just a ratty sweatshirt that was only slightly more suggestive than a canvas potato sack or a bright yellow plastic poncho.

But there she stood looking so ridiculously small in his sweatshirt, her bony legs sticking out like toothpicks from where the sweatshirt stopped around mid-thigh, the ends of the long sleeves bunched around her wrists and the right sleeve kept stubbornly slipping over her hand, the blue and purple streaks in her hair needed recolouring in the next few days, the green as vibrant as ever, just smearing lotion onto her face. And all he wanted to do was pull her as close as physically possible and never, ever let go.

The moment would never make it into _Playboy_ or _Penthouse_, but Spencer loved every second. The moment was incomparably intimate and sexy; absolutely nothing was hidden behind bright cloths or make-up or forced smiles. She was simply her, who she was before a day began to wear on her or after the affects had been washed away, simply Calliope with no additives or substitutions… and he was the only one to ever see her this way. Something so private, something he never thought he would get to share with someone and, yet, this had been such a wonderfully normal part of his life for over a year.

Their eyes met through the mirror and Calliope raised an eyebrow at him, a silent 'Why are you staring at me?' Spencer smiled shyly. Calliope straightened, about to leave the bathroom, but Spencer snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close against him. Leaning down, he dusted kisses up her neck.

"Only for me," he whispered into the skin just below her ear.

"Of course only for you, you moron," Calliope scoffed, but tilted her head so he could continue. "What were you thinking? That I wear I sign around town saying 'Homeless: Will Brush Teeth for Love'?"

Spencer laughed, his hands trailing down her sides so that his fingertips passed the fraying edges of the sweatshirt to brush against her skin. He raised the end of the sweatshirt until his hands pressed fully against her legs. He caught the side of her mouth with his and raised his hands just a bit higher. "No," he shook his head and kissed her again. "I love you."

"I love you too. But, if you stop now, I will hurt you."

The ends of the sweatshirt inched higher and higher until Spencer tugged it off completely and practically dragged her to their bed, or he would have been dragging her had she not been leading the way.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

11 October, 2010

A string of vicious expletives that would have impressed Mel Gibson drew Spencer out of his home office with more curiosity than fear and the single thought that he was glad Emeline was out with Ben and Brenda.

"Calliope?" He rounded the corner to see her standing in front of the couch with the blue baby blanket she had been crocheting lay at her feet with the ball of yarn that must have fallen from her lap when she jumped off the couch. She didn't answer, just continued staring at the television and shouting 'fuck' over and over again.

Turning to look at the television, Spencer realized immediately what caused Calliope's complete loss of actual verbal communication. Her face smiled from the screen over the shoulder of a blonde journalist with the caption 'Mystery Artist' beneath it.

_ "Until now, the identity of the artist behind the popular paintings from the company 'Scroll&Stylus, Inc.' has been considered one of the most carefully guarded secrets in today's art world. Now we know that the artist is none other than the reclusive heiress Calliope Sellers."_

"One thing! One damn thing!" Calliope shouted. "You couldn't just let me have the last damn fucking private piece of damn life? You had to just plaster it all over the television! And I'm not fucking reclusive! I'm _private_! There's a difference!" Spencer grabbed the remote to turn the television off, but Calliope stopped him. "I need to know what they know. Or what they think they know. Dammit. Why this too, Spencer? Seriously? They haven't taken over enough of our lives?"

"I know, Sweetheart," Spencer squeezed her hand as they watched the rest of the segment before they switched to a different topic, the continual budget cuts for public school systems. "Do you think Victoria told?"

"No," Calliope sighed and shook her head, thinking about the publicist for Scroll&Stylus and the only person at the company who had officially known who painted the pieces. "She signed a contract when I hired her. If she told someone, I can sue her for ten million dollars. She's a smart woman. She knows whatever she got from the media would be pennies compared to what she would loose. Someone finally figured it out. They were bound to do it sometime, I guess, right?"

"I'm so sorry, Calliope," he kissed her forehead and gave a sort of half-smile because he didn't know what else to do.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

17 October, 2010

None of her gallery openings had ever been like this. They were always well attended, of course, but she had never had to have extra security, she had never had people try to sneak in, the attention had always been on the art and she had always simply blended in, just another face in the crowd. Tonight, though, Calliope hid in Brittnee's office after being bombarded with questions and cameras, despite the clearly established rules against cameras.

Spencer came in, quickly closing the door behind him before anyone could notice the door opening or closing. She should have known better than to think she could hide from him. He sat on the carpet next to her and she buried her face in his chest without waiting for an invitation.

"I know," he whispered, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head.

"I want to take Eme and run away to somewhere they don't have televisions. Iceland. Let's go to Iceland."

"First, they have televisions in Iceland. And second, you don't speak Icelandic."

"Rosetta Stone. Problem solved."

"Rosetta Stone doesn't offer Icelandic."

"Stop foiling my plans."

"Okay," Spencer closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.

"Where Emeline?" Calliope whispered.

"With Ben, charming anyone who looks at her. The paintings are absolutely beautiful, Sweetheart. Everyone loves them." Calliope couldn't hold herself together any longer. Pressing closer into Spencer, she started crying. "Shhh," Spencer hugged her tightly, "It's okay, Sweetheart. It'll be okay."

"I just want this to end. I want life to go back to normal, Spencer."

"I know. I do too."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

23 October, 2010

"I remember when, I remember, when I lost my mind. There was something so pleasant about that phase… Even your emotions had an echo in so much space," Derek sang loudly as he swung Emeline around on the grass a few yards away from where the food from KFC was spread out on a huge collapsible table like they had actually cooked it themselves instead of gone through the drive-through. "And when you're out there without care, I was out of touch. It wasn't because I didn't know enough… I just knew too much."

"Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Probably," Derek tossed the little girl up and caught her easily, making Calliope gasp as from where she watched. Emeline laughed and shouted "make me crazy, crazy, crazy!" at the top of her lungs as she clung to Derek's neck, high on hilarity and adrenaline.

"An I hope you are having the time of your life, oh, but think twice. That's my only advice!" Derek swung the Emeline up over his head to sit on his shoulders, "Come on now, who do you, who do you think you are? Woah, Woah, bless your soul. Do you really think that you're in control?"

"Woah, woah!" Emeline crowed, obscuring Derek's vision as she held onto his head. "Make me crazy, crazy, crazy!"

"Well I think you're crazy, I think you're crazy, I think you're crazy just like me, yeah…"

"Crazy, crazy, crazy!"

Calliope laughed as the two spun wildly enough in place to cause both Perses and Clooney to jump up and start barking at them, happily pouncing from place to place as they moved. Perses out-bounced Clooney, but not by much. Unless Clooney's missing hind leg was visible, an observer would only assume the difference resulted from the ten-year age difference between the one-year-old Berner and the graying eleven year old German shepherd.

A flash across the grass darkened Calliope's smile and Spencer tugged her against him, whispering "ignore them" in her ear as another flash went off. Calliope took a deep breath and nodded, breaking out in a smile with two-year-old Henry toddled over with a sippy cup half full of milk.

"Hi, Henry!" Spencer helped the boy climb into his lap. "Did you like lunch?"

"I like my fries," Henry lifted his cup and nearly tipped off Spencer's lap leaning so far back that the cup was directly over his head. Spencer kept a hand supportively on Henry's back. "I like my shoes."

"You like your shoes?"

"Froggies!" Henry laughed and kicked his feet, forcing Spencer to look at the plastic slip on clogs with frog eyes peeking out from the top. "I 'ave ally-gators too."

Henry chattered away and Spencer prompted when required, but mostly he just listened. Jack had distracted Clooney away from Derek and Emeline long enough to retain the dog's attention. Together, they played a little too roughly for a tripawd, but Clooney seemed to be having more fun being rowdy than Jack. Will and Kevin sat at the other end of the table, Will trying to teach Kevin how to play a few chords on his guitar, but getting nowhere. Aaron and Dave played a game of Texas Hold 'Em and laughed the way only old friends could.

Calliope squeezed Spencer's thigh briefly before getting up and going over to Emily, J.J. and Penelope over where they sat pouring over pictures of cats up for adoption that Emily was considering. They were choosing between a tabby cat named Erica, a ginger kitten without a name and a black cat named Sergio.

"Sergio," Calliope laughed and pointed at the picture. "If only because he's named Sergio."

"I know!" Penelope grinned widely. "It's like a kitty romance novel! If only Crookshanks was a girl. We could have an epic Gone with the Wind romance… Sergio and Crookshanks."

"Derek would never let you near Crookshanks if he knew what you were thinking," J.J. shook her head.

"He'd have to. He needs someone to feed him and Clooney when he's gone."

"Maman!" Emeline shrieking her name from over in Derek's arms pulled her away from the three women and the three cats. Calliope grinned and took Emeline from Derek, pushing up on her toes and pressing a quick kiss to Derek's cheek. Derek squeezed her shoulder. "Can I has apple juice?"

"Yes, you may. Did you have fun with Uncle Derek? Are you dizzy?" Calliope tickled Emeline's stomach and shrill laughter filled the air.

"Crazy, crazy, crazy! I fink you're crazy!"

"She's gonna be singing that song for a month, Derek Morgan."

"Ray LaMontange's better than The Wiggles."

"Go for Journey next time, Der," Calliope laughed as Derek grabbed a Coke from the cooler and put a second one on the table for her as she refilled Emeline's sippy cup with apple juice. "A little bit of 'Separate Ways' or 'Wheel in the Sky.'"

"No 'Don't Stop Believing?'" Derek teased.

"I already taught her that one. Here you go, Baby."

"Did your crazy mama teach you 'Don't Stop Believing,' little rockstar?" Derek popped open his soda and flashed a blinding smile at the little girl who nodded seriously.

"Streetlife people."

Derek doubled over with silent laughter.

"Street_light_," Calliope corrected without much thought, picking some grass out of Emeline's pigtails as Jack ran up with the dogs. Clooney plopped down in an exhausted but happy heap at Derek's feet, but Perses kept trying to get Jack to continue playing by gently head butting the boy's shoulder and then hunching down in a pouncing position and trying again when Jack ignored him. "Pers, stop that! You crazy dog."

"I want a Capri Sun!" Jack exclaimed, climbing onto the bench between Derek and Will.

"Jack," Aaron looked up from his hand and stared at the boy meaningfully.

"Please. I want a Capri Sun, please," Jack repeated himself impatiently, like asking again with an extra word was a chore. Derek reached into the cooler again and pulled out one of the silver pouches.

Soon enough, Calliope forgot the cameras completely. With her family spread out before her, having fun and acting completely carefree for possibly the first time since they welcomed her into their life, she didn't have much of a choice. So much love and happiness surrounded her that every ounce worry and anxiety within her retreated to the darkest parts of her soul, not gone, but in surrender for now.

Spencer wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her and Emeline close. Emeline watched over the rim of her sippy cup as he leaned down to press a kiss to Calliope's lips, silently reminding her how much he loved her.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Snuggling into Spencer later that night, long after Emeline had been put to bed, Calliope still felt easy and relaxed. Happy. Spencer turned the pages of his book every two seconds and the constant rhythm was slowly lulling her to sleep. Steve McQueen's famous motorcycle chase from _The Great Escape_ played out on the flat screen above the fireplace, but Calliope wasn't paying it the movie any attention any longer and Spencer never had been.

There had been a season many, many years ago when Calliope had been convinced she would marry Steve McQueen one day, but that was before she was old enough to understand he had died two years before she was born, almost to the day. Even once she realized her groom would never be, she kept the crush on the late actor, watching every movie he appeared in multiple times. _The Great Escape_ happened to be her grandpa's favourite film, so it had often graced their television growing up. And, by now, Spencer had seen it more than twice and could recite all one hundred and seventy-two minutes of it, including the text.

As she fell asleep to the sounds of gunfire and dramatic music and pages turning, her thoughts drifted to Kaden. Had he grown up watching Steve McQueen movies? Did they have anything in common other than an uncanny resemblance to one another?

She had already accepted the fact that Kaden was her half-brother. He looked too much like a clone of her father, too much like her, to deny the fact, but, despite that, she struggled too embrace it. It felt too strange, too _The Parent Trap_, too every other cheesy movie plotline about long-lost family members. And maybe it made her a bad person, but she didn't feel any overwhelming sense of completion now that she knew about Kaden, no sudden realization that there had always been this empty spot in her life that he was suppose to fill. She felt confused and unsure. The only things she was sure about regarding Kaden was that he was Henry Sellers' son and that she absolutely did _not_ want to have this awkward reunion with every camera lens within a few hundred miles trained on her.

So she waited. Maybe it was cruel, but she waited for the results of the DNA tests to come back. Her lawyer, Brendon, had insisted it and she practically jumped at it, not because she needed the proof, though she knew she did, but because it bought her time. It bought her time to come to grips with this new reality and a legitimate reason to avoid the reunion with Kaden and his mother Elissa. Just a little more time.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

25 October, 2010

Walking back from the coffee pot in the corner, Reid sat back in his chair at his desk adjacent from Prentiss' and picked up the folder he had been studying before making a much-needed caffeine run. His phone rang in his pocket and he let the fold back down to pull it out. Calliope's name was on the caller ID and he hit the 'silent' button with a wince and slipped it back into his pocket. He would call her back on his lunch break.

He ignored the beep that indicated a voicemail and jotted down a few notes on the papers in the file. Hotch had handed all of them a stack of files that morning at the everyday nine am briefing and told them to look over each of the cases, write their notes and return them when they were finished. Spencer would be home for dinner and he didn't want to bring a single file with him.

Half a floor above and to the right of them on the same half-floor Hotch's and Rossi's offices occupied something exploded. Not a bomb or any sort of explosives, but the loud slamming of a door exploding open and bashing into the wall. Footsteps stormed across the floor and Prentiss laughed quietly.

"_Someone_ is in _serious trouble_," she whispered with a suppressed laugh, not knowing _who_ was in trouble, but certain it wasn't her.

The furious footsteps came closer and closer and, as they got closer, they became clearer. Identifiable. Strauss.

Section Chief Erin Strauss appeared on the walkway and stalked to the top of the stairs leading to the bullpen. Her face was murderous. Someone was going to die and, as Reid looked up to check whose life had expired, he realized her gaze was leveled straight at him.

"Dr. Reid. You. Agent Morgan. My office. Now."

Reid sat, frozen, in his seat. Whatever he and Morgan had done, Strauss was irate beyond complete sentences.

"NOW, DR. REID!"

Reid bolted out of his chair, nearly upsetting its' balance completely and toppling it to the floor. Prentiss watched, baffled, as Reid half-jogged towards Morgan's office and Strauss stormed back the way she'd come. Reid was back in less then two minutes with a confused and worried-looking Morgan in tow, his skinny arms raised and repeating, "I have no idea!" in that semi high pitched voice he got when his mind was going faster than it was possible for his mouth to keep up with and his mouth was doing it's best not to get left behind.

"This is absolutely unacceptable," Strauss leaned back against her chair as the door closed behind Morgan and Reid.

"Ma'am? I don't understand–"

Strauss didn't let Morgan finish before picking up one of the magazine sitting on her desk and reading the headline aloud. "BAU Baby Daddy Drama. Is SSA Reid's coworker the biological father of Calliope Sellers' daughter?"

Turning the magazine around, she let the two men see the headline and the picture from Saturday of Calliope taking Emeline from Derek's arms and giving him what had been a brief, innocent kiss on the cheek but looked far more incriminating and significant in print.

"What the hell?" Morgan stared, stunned, at the magazine. Strauss put that one down and picked up another. Reid closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face.

"Is the FBI the newest dating service?" Strauss replaced that magazine with another. "Heiress makes fools of FBI's top agents." She picked up a fourth magazine and read the headline aloud, then a fifth and a sixth, all with a picture similar to the first. And then Strauss looked up at the two men standing in front of her desk. "Putting the 'special' in special agents."

"This is completely fabricated," Reid shook his head with an inward groan. His entire life was getting ridiculously out of hand. "None of it's true."

"I don't care if it's true!" Strauss let the magazines hit the desk with a thud.

"Emeline's from Haiti – she's not biologically Calliope's child at all. She couldn't possibly be Derek's daughter. Her father's name is Alain Noel," Reid picked up the first magazine. "Her mother's name is Flore."

"This is crazy," Morgan glanced at Reid. "Even if Eme was Cal's kid, none of us knew Cal four years ago. Not even Reid."

"Chief Strauss, I'm honestly not completely sure what this has to do with you or the BAU, besides the headlines. They're just using our jobs as a hook to sell magazines," Reid put down the final magazine. He had just read all six articles. "They don't say anything about the BAU other than to name a few high-profile case and explain what we do. Nothing damaging."

"This entire situation is damaging! This cannot happen in our line of work. This will jeopardize the cases your team works on, the integrity and moral backbone of this unit. The BAU should not be any part of some media maelstrom. What happens the next time your team gives a press conference and all anyone wants to discuss is your love life and this… this _triangle_, fictional or not?"

"We would never let that happen," Morgan's answer was quick and sure.

"You are _both_ on desk duty until this spectacle is over."

"What?"

"But tha–"

"That wasn't up for debate."

* * *

**A/N:**

**Everyone hate on Strauss... Annnnnnd... GO.**

**Can yall believe this thing has 50 chapters and 265,471 freaking words? Because I can't! Holy smokes. Mary, Joseph and the Camel! That just blows my mind. And I've loved every second of it.**

**Last week was kinda a sucky week for me. Soccer season is over. The boys lost in their second playoff game. It was awful. It was just really hard knowing it's probably the last time I'm ever going to see LB play. Plus, I've been on the sidelines all season taking pictures. I was seriously ready to sit down and start crying with the rest of the team. :( BUT! We just found out a few days ago that he has an soccer tryout at a university not quite three hours away! The university needs a third Keep and they called up Coach Daddy (yes, we actually call him that) and asked about LB! I'm so excited. XD XD**

**In other news: Melons. Yes. Melons. On the 21st of March, that would be nineteen days ago for those of you sans calendar, Little Brother Dearest was trying to get Mum to agree to let him and the Bonus Brothers go (unsupervised) all the way from Texas to Cedar Point in Sandusky, Ohio. That is a ****one thousand two hundred and ninety-seven **(1,297) mile drive. None of them are over 19. Oh so surprisingly, the answer was a resounding "Are you out of your mind?" Not that that answer has deterred him any. He kept asking and bringing it up, not exactly nagging, but just being silly. Mum's tuned him out and is looking at ancient family photos from the 18 and early 19 hundreds. I'm still listening to Little Brother, just having fun with him. Finally, I say, "If you get to go to Cedar Point, I get to go to Canada." However... he didn't hear the last bit of my sentence and started freaking out thinking I'd said "I get to go with you" or something. I, of course, think it's absolutely freaking hysterical - I'm sick and twisted, what can I say - and start messing with him. After a while, he picks up the melon on the counter and says, "I will throw this at you. What did you say?" A little more teasing and I head to my room, pull out my book and start reading, still giggling. Maybe six, seven minutes later my door opens, Little Brother lobs the melon at me like a grenade, shuts the door and runs away. I come out, melon in tow, absolutely laughing myself to death. Mum didn't seem to believe Little Brother threw the melon at me, which, naturally, brought up the time Mum threw an open bag of pasta shells at Little Brother - I was there, he deserved it 100%. Damn puberty. I'm on the floor laughing so hard that I cannot breathe. So he starts making fun of me, because I'm pretty much turned red as a roma tomato, wheezing my laughter out because I have absolutely no air left and then gasping for breath when I'm about to pass out. His making fun of me only makes it worse. I laugh harder. More wheezing, brighter red, closer to death.

**Which brings me to another legendary family story to share with you. Also to do with melons. My mum (6), her three younger sisters (4,3,2) and their parents (my grama and grampa) moved to and lived in Israel on a kibbutz from 1960-1961. The parents used to get up at the crack of dawn to eat and then go work at the job they were assigned that week. Sometimes they worked in slaughterhouse, etc, or to the fields. If it was harvest time and you were working in the fields, you could bring home as much as you could carry. Bananas, oranges, grapes and, this one time, watermelons. Dun, dun, dun... (Anybody see a pattern emerging?) Now, everybody got to bring home a loaf of fresh bread, little pots of butter and jam, a container of milk, tea packets. So, that day, Grama had worked in the field and brought home watermelon. Grama and Grampa were sitting on the log in the grassy area in front of where they lived and the four girls were on the ground. They had cut one of the watermelon into six pieces and were eating and laughing and my Grama (God,, love her) had an end piece. She'd eaten down into the rind and, when she'd gotten pretty close to the end, she looked at my Grampa, looked back at the watermelon, looked at my Grampa again and smashed the watermelon right into his face! Grama jumps up and starts running away and laughing hysterically and, of course, Grampa gets up and chases her. They're chasing each other around, smashing watermelons in each others faces and my mum and aunts are just laughing their little heads off. All the while, I'm 99.99999% positive, the rest of the people on the kibbutz were thinking, "When are these damn Americans gonna go home?" ... Melons... they run in the family.**

**Okay! I'm off! Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it and, please, tell me what you think - good or bad! ¡Adiós!**

**Love, Thalia**


	52. Chapter 51

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_A good plan violently executed now is better than a perfect plan executed next week." – George S. Patton_

o o o o

25 October, 2010

Spencer and Derek walked, stunned, into the round-table room after being dismissed by Strauss several choice words later. Spencer sat and stared at him hands, but Derek paced the length of the room and back before starting again. The older agent kept starting sentences and then stopping them only a few words into them. Finally, Spencer groaned and buried his head in his hands, scrubbing his face as if he could somehow scrub away the past half hour and make this all right again.

Derek's phone rang, but Spencer wasn't paying attention as the man pulled it off his belt and answered without looking. "Morgan. Shit – no. You can't believe that crap–"

"What did Strauss want?" Emily walked warily into the conference room.

"We're on desk duty," Spencer's hands muffled his groaned words.

"Desk duty? Are you kidding me? Why? What the hell's going on? This is bullshit! We just lost J.J. and now the two of you? Is Strauss trying to bury us? How are we supposed to work three agents down? Why were you two benched?" Emily finally stopped for breath, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling furiously.

"The magazines are all claiming that Emeline is Derek's daughter," Spencer sighed. Emily stared a moments before bursting out laughing. She laughed for a few seconds, until she realized Spencer wasn't joking.

"Are you serious? That's just crazy. Eme's four years old. And from Haiti! She couldn't be – this is just so stupid."

"Listen to me! She isn't my kid!" Derek raised his voice, obviously trying to speak over the person on the other end of the conversation. "Ja – no, I – Will you be quiet for two seconds?"

"Did Strauss say when you're back?" Emily asked, but Dave interrupted before Spencer could answer.

"What's going on?" Dave stopped in the doorway, Hotch not too far behind him.

"I didn't hear about a case," Hotch looked concerned.

"Derek and I were put on desk duty because of the magazines," Spencer said simply. That was all Hotch needed to hear and he was back out of the door.

"She's not my kid!" Derek looked near homicidal. "She can't seriously think that. Are you kidding? No, no. I'll call –" Derek stopped talking and pulled the phone away from his ear for a second to look at the touch screen. "Shit. I don't have to call her, she's on the other line. James, I swear Emeline is _not_ my daughter. The first playoff game is in five days. Don't you have practice? Go get ready for Salt Lake. And take a penalty kick to the head while you're at it." Switching to the other line, Derek cringed as he lifted the phone to his ear. "Mama, it's not my kid."

Spencer could hear the hysterical voice through the phone and covered his face with his hands. This was entirely his fault.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Pick up your phone," Calliope paced back and forth in the kitchen with her iPhone squeezed between her shoulder and her ear.

"Maman," Emeline held her arms out for Calliope to pick her up, but Calliope paced right past her.

"Not right now, Baby. Please, Maman's in a pickle."

"Maman!"

"Not now, Emeline."

"Maman! Maman, Maman, Maman!" Emeline's voice grew louder and shriller until Calliope slammed the phone down onto the counter in frustration.

"Emeline Noel! I said not now." Calliope looked down at her, her anger fading when she saw the little girl's face crumbling. "Oh, Princess, I'm sorry." Calliope squatted down and Emeline burst into tears as she ran into her arms. "It's okay, Eme, I'm sorry. You're okay. Do you want to go see Auntie Jill?"

Emeline didn't stop crying, just clung to Calliope's neck as she stood up with Emeline safely in her arms. Calliope paced back and forth, gently rocking on her heels until Emeline's sobs turned into sniffles and the little girl had calmed down. "Let's go see Auntie Jill. I bet you she has some of that banana bread you liked so much."

With Emeline tucked into her car seat and Perses sitting in the front passengers seat and beating his tail excitedly, Calliope loaded a few things into the SUV and backed out of the garage before she could change her mind. The drive to Washington felt excruciating and Calliope kept checking, paranoid, in her rearview mirror to see if she was being followed. She had passed the exit one-fifty-six to Dale City about forty minutes after pulling out of the garage when she noticed the same blue Corolla that had been directly behind twenty minutes ago after passing Aquia Harbour.

Checking her rearview mirror again, she glanced at Emeline to make sure she was still happily engrossed in _Finding Nemo_ before she switched lanes. The Corolla switched too. Calliope clenched her teeth against the string of words she wanted to mumble under her breath. She continued driving towards Washington, but instead of getting off the interstate and the proper exit, she drove a few further before getting off. Worried that Emeline would get fidgety soon, Calliope starting driving aimlessly in a circle.

It was thirty minutes before the Corolla gave up and Calliope wasted another ten minutes before turning in the proper direction of Jill and Steve's home. As she pulled into the driveway of the brand-new home, Calliope was ready to cry.

"What's wrong?" Jill asked as soon as the door was open.

"M-A-G-A-Z-I-N-E-S." Emeline had come to know and understand the word 'magazines' held a bad connotation and started crying every time she heard the word.

"Bad?"

"Oh yeah."

The story retold itself over massive amounts of coffee and the baked goods that always filled Jill's kitchen. Calliope broke another piece of banana bread into small, manageable pieces for Emeline and handed the bowl to the little girl, who ran right back to where she had been staring at the fish and giving them names. Jill placed a new mug of coffee in front of her sister.

"What are you going to do?" Jill eased herself into the chair.

"I have no idea."

"Why don't you just talk to them?"

"What?" Calliope looked up, stunned at the suggestion.

"You know, pick a magazine and do an interview. Just give them what they want and maybe they'll back off. Celebrities do it all the time. Carrie Underwood just gave them stuff from her wedding so they'd leave the actual event alone. They all sell their baby's pictures so they'll leave them alone."

"You think if I give an interview, they'll get bored and leave us alone?"

Jill shrugged and rubbed her stomach. "It's worth a try. What more can you do? The more you run away and hide, the more they want to know. It's been a month and it hasn't eased up at all. You have to do something."

"Ugh," Calliope dropped her head into her hands. "This suuuuucks."

"I know, sis."

"I need to run," Calliope pushed herself up suddenly. "Can you watch Eme?"

"Yeah, of course." Jill followed Calliope to the door as she attached the thick rope to Perses' collar, who had run up as soon as he realized something was going on. "Why don't you just use a leash?"

"He breaks them. We gave up on leashes and just switched to the rope we used for the horses. Not fancy, but it doesn't break."

"Callie," Jill stopped her right before she could step off the porch. "You have to stop running away."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Derek leaned back against the wall of his office and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. His wall was cold against his head and he ignored the cell phone vibrating on his desk. The iPhone had been vibrating incessantly for over an hour and he couldn't repeat 'she's not my kid' to another member of his family one more time, not without screaming. He couldn't be positive, but he was fairly certain he had been called by all thirty-two of his cousins. Even the voice of Sebastian, the youngest at only five, was probably waiting in a voicemail for him.

"Fuck," Derek threw the foam stress ball Penelope had left in his 'super secret fun zone' across the room, where it bounced off the ball and to the carpeted floor. The loud beep of an incoming text message and the sudden interruption the constant buzz startled him out of his thoughts. Only one person that Derek could think of would be texting him now instead of calling, so he found his way to his feet and picked up the phone, falling into the desk chair and opening the message.

_'Is she yours?'_

_'Eme is not mine. Cal and Reid adopted her from Haiti.' _He sent the message before he could try to rewrite it and waited. Ten long minutes passed before the buzzing was interrupted again.

_'Okay.'_

Derek wanted to send another message, to explain in detail, but what else was there to say? So, instead, he put the vibrating phone back on his desk and stared at the ceiling.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"But by taking Agents Morgan and Reid out of the field, you're handicapping my team," Hotch fought to keep his voice level and calm. "We're already a member down without Agent Jareau and now this unit is supposed to run another two members short?"

"I already gave you a pile of applications from agents, all of whom would be highly qualified to fill Agent Jareau's shoes," Erin Strauss looked over her glasses at him.

"And I have looked over every one of them, but, will all due respect, not one of them could do her job. Agent Jareau was more than just a liaison. She had connections with the right media. She had learned to profile as well and –"

"And with time, one of these men or women will gain the right connections and learn to profile as well."

"My team doesn't have time for one of these agents to adjust. The last time someone tried to fill Agent Jareau's role, lives were put in danger."

"If you're referring to Agent Todd, that family had already been dead for a week," Erin took off her glasses and sighed. "Aaron, you know I didn't have a choice in keeping Agent Jareau. I know how vital she was to your unit. Her transfer was above my pay grade. I'm doing the best I can in regards to a replacement."

"You can let me keep Agents Morgan and Reid," Hotch silently conceded that losing J.J. hadn't been the Section Chief's fault.

"I can't put this unit in any more risk than it already is, Aaron. That's final. If you get a case before this is resolved, you can take one of Shawnison's men."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"I'm not running away," Calliope groused herself as her feet pounded against the pavement, Perses' rope gripped tightly in her hand. Her curly mane was pulled back in a ponytail and tucked under one of Jill's Red Wings baseball hats, but the tips still flew out behind her. "I'm not running away."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Neither Calliope nor Spencer spoke after Emeline had been tucked into bed later that night. They put the dishes in the dishwasher without talking, brushed their teeth next to each other silently, changed into their pajamas and slipped into bed without exchanging a word. Spencer flipped through the news without actually paying attention to any of it while Calliope flipped through the latest issue of _Art in America_ without actually reading a word in the magazine.

"I've been taken out of the field," Spencer finally told her.

"That's nice," Calliope responded before the words sunk in. "Wait, _what_?"

"Strauss took Morgan and I out of the field. We're on desk duty."

In a fit of anger, Calliope threw the magazine across the room and fell to the ground ad the end of the bed with an awkward flapping movement. Spencer wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his grasp in the way he had wanted to all day, burying his face in her hair and clinging to her as she cussed and muttered. The day had been so emotional already that she wore her anger out in no time and snuggled into Spencer as well. "You're magic," she whimpered pathetically, "make this all go away."

Spencer wished he could. Taking in a deep breath of her shampoo, he tried to remind himself that there was more to who he was than his job. The BAU and catching killers was his _job_, not his entire sense of self. Except for now that it had been taken away and he was having trouble remembering anything about himself that wasn't related to the BAU.

"We've retreated enough," Calliope pulled herself from his arms and threw the comforter off of her. "It's time for a counter-offensive."

"Counter-offensive?"

"Counter-attack is thinking too small. Counter-offensive. We have to attack violently before they can launch another. Think Operation _Bodenplatte_." Calliope paced back and forth.

"Operation _Bodenplatte_ was, essentially, a huge failure, cost the _Luftwaffe_ two hundred and seventy-seven planes. In one day, they lost a hundred and forty-three irreplaceable fighter pilots, seventy more became POWs and twenty-one wounded. Operation _Bodenplatte_ rendered the _Luftwaffe_ useless and impotent for the duration of the war."

"So not the point."

"You do realize _you're_ not the marine, right?" Spencer smiled a little. "You're not supposed to be thinking in offensives and counter-offensives."

"Hush. I'm thinking. You think too."

"Anything specific?"

"Stop being a smartass. They've had their Pearl Harbour; it's time for our Guadalcanal."

Spencer started laughing. He needed this. He needed her to react the way he knew she would and bring laughter and light back into his life. Perses' lifted his head to watch them and Spencer rested a hand on his furry back. "Calliope."

"Hush! I'm constructing a plan."

"Come here."

"I can't. Plans, tactics… They need attending to."

"It's eleven o'clock, Sweetheart. It can wait until tomorrow."

"War waits for no man!"

"Well, can I have a kiss before this man goes to sleep?"

"I suppose," Calliope climbed back onto the bed and leaned over to kiss him, but Spencer grabbed her sweatshirt, his sweatshirt, really, and pulled her close. "Spencer!"

"Shhh! V-J Day," he whispered, kissed her.

"You're four years too early," she giggled, but kissed him back.

"Three years, eight months and seven days."

"You're messing up the space-time continuum," Calliope kept laughing as he awkwardly pulled the CalTech sweatshirt over her head and pushed the dog off the bed at the same time.

"I can fix it."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

26 October, 2011

"So how much trouble are you in?" García asked as she and Morgan walked side-by-side to the round table room at nine that morning.

"Let's just say… the next time I go to Chicago, I might not come back."

"Well, I'll miss you," she joked while Morgan held the door for her.

"Always with the jokes."

"Oh, shoot! I'll be right back." García turned on her heal and Morgan shrugged, but continued through the door and sat down. García's festively orange heels clicked on the tile as she hurried to her lair and back in record time, managing to return in the middle of a classic Spencer Reid Rant.

"I'm toying with the notion of taking Calliope to either the Eager Allen Poe Shadow Puppet Theater or the reenactment of the nineteenth century phantasmagoria."

"I don't wanna know," Rossi said as García stopped next to him.

"Oh, yeah you do. Phantasmagorias are these amazing pre-cinema projected ghost shows invented in France where the showmen attempted to spook the audience using science magic. Calliope would love it."

"Uh, yeah, no," García shook her head, eyes clearly screaming 'are you crazy' as she stared at him. "If you took Luce to that, she had nightmares for a week. Guys, I wouldn't have to worry about losing my feminine curves if you all paid more attention to all the trees we're consuming around here."

"When did you become an eco-freak?" Morgan asked incredulously.

"Baby, I was born green."

"We're going to Detroit," Hotch came in without a greeting and turned the plasma screen on with the remote. "Let's get this done fast and get on the plane."

"I thought we–"

"You're coming. I'll deal with Strauss later," Hotch didn't let Morgan finish his sentence.

"Can we afford more bad blood with Erin?" Rossi's question was more rhetorical than not.

"We need this entire unit on this case. This unsub is burning his victims alive."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Callie, sit down," Brenda said from where she sat with Emeline in her lap. Emeline was brushing the hair of her new American Girl doll, fittingly named Sasifi after the star of her favourite book _Tap-Tap_. "There's nothing you can do but wait."

"I'm not good at waiting," Calliope mumbled and Brenda rolled her eyes in agreement.

"Do you want to see if Halina has anything in the kitchen for us, Eme?" Brenda smiled down at the little girl who nodded enthusiastically.

"Sasifi too!"

"I'm sure we can find something for Sasifi too."

Emeline skipped ahead of Brenda, Sasifi bouncing along behind as Emeline held on to the doll by the arm. Calliope watched with a small smile before turning back to the window.

"Staring out the window won't make the call come any faster, Peanut," Ben slipped an arm around his granddaughter's shoulders and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"I feel like they're bidding on my life," Calliope rested her head against him. "They are. They're bidding on my life."

There was a knock on the door and the two turned around to see Brendon Shawnessy, the Sellers' family lawyer, poked his head into the room. "_Ok! _pulled out, _People_ won."

"Fantastic," Calliope drawled.

"Price?"

"Ten point three million."

"My life is _not_ that interesting!" Calliope shouted in exasperation. "I'm a boring person!"

"That's for sure," Brendon joked, dryly. "You need to come sign the papers. Spencer already faxed over his signature. You'll sign that."

"Signing away my life. Fun. Didn't think I'd do that until I got married."

"Just a, uh, word of advice, Callie," Brendon smiled as she and Ben followed him out of the room and down the hall, "don't act like this in the interview."

"Well, shucks, way to ruin my all my plans. Whatever shall I do?" Calliope joked in a sugary sweet falsetto.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

29 October, 2011

Spencer stretched out his back as he lay down on the sofa in the back of the jet. He almost didn't want to go back to Virginia. In Detroit, he hadn't left the station and the officers there hadn't paid him any attention after an initial ogling period that lasted all of maybe five minutes. Apparently he was only interesting when he was with Calliope. Derek had managed to deflect attention outside of the station by making sure he looked busy or by wearing a perpetual scowl.

Now he had to go home and step right back into the limelight he hated so much. Despite how fast his mind was whirring, or maybe because of it, Spencer fell asleep somewhere over Lake Eire.

"The kid can fall asleep anywhere," Dave shoot his head. Hotch nodded. "How much trouble are we in with Erin?"

"I think it's fixable. We had no problems. Nothing went wrong. We survived, solved the case and didn't hurt the BAU," Hotch shrugged.

"But you know how Strauss can be when she doesn't get her way." Dave flipped over another card in his game of spider solitaire.

"I know. But we couldn't have solved this case with anyone else. We needed them."

"It's not me you have to convince me. I already think it was the right decision. But you know I don't deal with the bureau-bullshit." Dave played a three-two-ace on a new column and flipped over the card underneath to reveal yet another seven. "Ugh, and they say that sevens are supposed to be the lucky ones."

"Three sevens," Hotch joked, "not five of them. No eights or six's?"

"Not a single one."

"Reid must have stacked the deck. Call it a scratch game?"

"Yeah. Time to start over," Dave gathered the two decks of cards and shuffled them together. " Kind of symbolic, huh?"

"The card game?"

"Starting over. Seems to be the theme of late."

"Mmmm," Hotch nodded noncommittally, texting his sister-in-law Jessica that he would be there to pick Jack up in about two and a half hours. Rossi watched his old friend. Before, Dave had prided himself on being one of the two people who could read Aaron Hotchner's stony face no matter what and now, he supposed, he was the only one left with the ability. It was a great deal of responsibility, but one Dave accepted willingly. "You're taking Jack trick-or-treating?"

ooo ooo ooo ooo

31 October, 2011

"Up you go, Eme!" Spencer, still decked out in his now-traditional elf costume from The Hobbit Hole's Halloween event, lifted the little girl over the edge of the curb and onto the sidewalk. Her full green skirt made it hard for her to do more than shuffle awkwardly ahead in search of another friend giving out candy.

The tailor-made Tiana costume had been more extravagant than Spencer thought necessary, especially for a toddler, but it made Calliope happy and Emeline loved it, so he kept quiet, 'ohh-ing' and 'aww-ing' when appropriate. And, if he were honest, seeing his little princess dressed up and looking like a princess made him melt a little and desperately wish she'd stay three forever.

"Poppy! Frank gived me appy!" Emeline proudly held up the huge caramel apple, which was a good deal larger than both her hands put together to hold the cellophane wrapped fruit. Frank, who was dipping apples in caramel outside of Capital Ale House, waved at Spencer with his free hand. Spencer returned the wave with a smile.

"That's for at home," Spencer took the apple and put it in the bright pink basket he carried. Emeline had handed it to him after two stops and run ahead, leaving him to tote the sparkling candy carrier. "Where there're napkins."

Emeline pouted briefly, but her disappointment tempered quickly as she shuffled on to the next stop along Caroline Street, trusting him to follow after her. "Poppy! Poppy!"

"Right here, Princess."

Emeline popped a candy into her mouth before he could see who had given it to her and Spencer panicked for a moment. He loved Halloween, but he had the good sense to be careful about what he ate if he didn't know where it came from. His daughter, who just yesterday had tried to eat a quarter she spread peanut butter on instead of her crackers, would eat just about anything without hesitation. One of the dance instructors from Avery's Ballet came into view and Spencer's panic subsided.

"What's cookin,' good lookin'?" Calliope said as best she could behind a full dwarf beard and slipped an arm around his waist.

"Half of this is going straight in the trash," Spencer kissed the top of her head.

"We know everyone here."

"No, well, yes, we do," Spencer kept watching Emeline, "but she can't have this much candy."

"Holy guacamole!" Calliope curbed her initial phrase when she saw the haul in the basket Spencer held out for her to see. "How'd she get so much candy?"

"She cons them," Spencer said seriously.

"What?" Calliope started laughing.

"Look!" Spencer gestured at their daughter, who was sitting in the old florist's lap. "She's charming them into giving her more."

"Oh my God, Emeline…" Calliope leaned against Spencer and smiled, enjoying the moment of peaceful, uncomplicated joy.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

6 November, 2010

Calliope squeezed Spencer's hand and did her best to keep a smile on her face. The photographer kept taking photographs of them walking down the manicured lawn by the racetracks behind Dahlia like this was something they did on a regular basis. It seemed that all they had done today was play at being the perfect, happy couple. They had taken photographs at their house in Fredericksburg, at The Hobbit Hole and now at Dahlia and Calliope found everything about the photographer and his crew unpleasant.

Spencer whispered in her ear and Calliope laughed, a loud, sharp bark like a dog and collapsed in a fit of giggles. The photographer seemed to like it, because he started snapping pictures faster than a person could blink, and the reporter from _People_, Katie McCullough, began furiously taking notes as she had been all day.

"I love you," he murmured against her temple, well aware of the camera's continually popping flash. "Relax, Sweetheart. It'll be over soon."

"I know," she smiled up at him, the sun catching her hair brilliantly. Calliope pushed up the extra inch or two she still needed in her cowboy boots to reach his lips so she could kiss him. That was one thing they had both insisted on – they would wear their own cloths and not be dressed like people out of a fashion magazine. So they were dressed comfortably at each location and now Calliope wore her scuffed brown boots and her favourite teal sundress, despite the chill in the air. Spencer was himself in brown slacks and a rich purple dress shirt beneath his favourite brown vest, the look completed in perfect awkwardness by his banged-up Chuck Taylors. When they were taking pictures at home, Calliope had gone so far as to wear a pair of jeans, the over-sized CalTech sweatshirt and her Goofy slippers, much to the amusement of Spencer and the scorn of everyone else present.

The sun was beginning to set when Emeline woke up from her nap and demanded to be part of the excitement again, though she really didn't understand what the excitement was all about or what was going on. A few more pictures were taken of the three of them, and then with Ben and Brenda on the back deck. When the light was gone, the photographers packed up and left and the reporter went to get dinner before returning for the interview. Emeline was fed and put to sleep in nursery that had once been Calliope's and Katie McCullough came back.

Spencer held Calliope's hand throughout the entire interview and then answered question after question. Spencer noticed the tricks Katie kept trying to use to put them at ease and they were working on Calliope to a degree. All-in-all, the woman seemed nice and trust-worthy. Over-eager, though, and excited by what could possibly be her 'big break' assignment. And it was with complete physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion that the pair fell into their bed that evening.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

_REAL LIFE FAIRY TALES_

_Unbeknownst to those outside the boundaries of Williamsburg, Virginia, an American Princess has defied the world's odds and found her happily ever after despite tragic beginnings_

_By Katie McCullough_

_Born into the South's wealthiest family, Calliope Sellers' family traces far back into the eleventh century in English nobility where they were merchants that catered to those of their social circle. In 1602, Henry Sellers, a second-born son entitled to none of the family wealth, took his wife Margaret and four children to Virginia, first settling in Jamestown and then uprooting the family again to Williamsburg some years later. When all but one of the remaining Sellers family in England died of a smallpox infestation, James Sellers, a member of the clergy, wrote to his brother in Williamsburg. Henry's eldest son sailed to England to return with a fortune that would be worth well over seven million dollars today. Fast forward and you would see the most successful plantation in the South, see that plantation decimated by civil war and then slowly returned to it's former splendour. Today the Sellers family, run by twenty-eight year old Calliope Sellers, is ranked number 17 on the 2010 edition of Forbes' Billionaires list._

_ On 5 November, 1982, Calliope Sellers was born the fourth child of Henry and Hannah Sellers, behind siblings Orlando, 11, Demetrius, 9, and Rosalind, 5. The family's life should have been one out of a storybook, but instead tragedy struck on 2 December in the form of a car accident that kill Henry, Hannah and their three oldest children. At three weeks old, Calliope was orphaned into the love and care of her grandfather, Dr. Ben Sellers, and her "Mammy," Brenda Sellers._

_ While she admits her childhood was far from ordinary, Calliope denies the thought of being 'spoiled.' "Absolutely not," she laughs, "I was taught discipline and hard work from a young age. I had my first job outside when I was ten. I worked in Colonial Williamsburg. Mammy and Grampa were of the 'if you want it, you have to earn it,' school of thought. There was a lot of stall mucking and bed-turning in my childhood."_

_ Though many would have been inclined to sit back and enjoy living off of the work her forbearers had done, Calliope refused to be satisfied with becoming an unfortunate footnote in the Sellers family history. Instead, she has expanded the family empire past horses, hospitals, real estate and tourism, to include 'The Hobbit Hole,' a reading room in Fredericksburg, VA, and the anonymous Scroll&StylusInc., the brand of her paintings, which sell for between $30-100 K a piece._

_ Her talent for painting was discovered at a young age and nurtured to the point where she majored in Art History at Kingsway Preparatory Academy and then Painting at Washington & Lee University before training in Italy and earning a master's degree in Art History at Carnegie Mellon University._

_ Which brings us up to where she met her very real Prince Charming on 28 August of 2008._

_ Calliope was working at The Hobbit Hole, yes! the billionaire heiress actually works in her own store!, when she saw someone who caught her eye. A reading Dr. Spencer Reid. Now 29, Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid, a genius from Las Vegas, NV, was taking a break from the stress of his job at the FBI where he works as a behavioural analyst for the Behavioural Analysis Unit in Quantico, VA._

_ They've been together ever since. The couple refuse to share exactly how they met, deciding to keep that a private story for close friends and family._

_ "It's sugary sweet," Calliope admits, sharing a private smile with Spencer._

_ "Something out of a Bront__ë__ or Austen novel," he agrees._

_ Some have accused Spencer of being a free-loader, but everyone who knows them violently reject this statement._

_ "That's completely ridiculous," says Brianne Scheiner, co-manager of The Hobbit Hole and friend of Calliope. "Spencer didn't approach Callie. It was the other way around. And I had to convince her to go talk to him in the first place."_

_ "No one could use Callie," says life-long friend Jillian Ackerman of Spencer and the relationship. "She's too quick for that. You grow up with her money and you learn very quickly how to spot a phony and the real deal. You have to, or you get taken advantage of."_

_ And people forget that Spencer, the son of lawyer William and former literature professor Diane Reid, doesn't need the Sellers family's help. A genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic (or photographic, for those who, like I, had no idea who eidetic meant), Spencer holds in Math, Chemistry and Engineering, as well as B.A.s in Sociology, Psychology and Philosophy. He graduated from high school in Las Vegas at 12 and had his first Ph.D by 16. Instead of using his talents in a more profitable area, Spencer chose to join the FBI at the urging of his to-be mentor SSA Jason Gideon._

_ Despite setbacks in the form of the infamous Boston Reaper, the relationship between Calliope and Spencer continued to flourish. It flourished to the point that, when the earthquake struck Haiti last January, Calliope and her grandfather, Dr. Ben Sellers, traveled to the decimated country to offer help. A month later, Calliope returned home to Spencer, not only with the images that would inspire the collection debuted last month, but a three year old baby girl, Emeline Noel, daughter of earthquake victim Alain Noel and his wife Flore, who had died several years prior. Alain handed a crying Emeline to Calliope and Ben tried, unsuccessfully, to stabilize the massive injuries that would lead to his dead._

_At first, Emeline stayed in Haiti with her grandmother, Chanté Noel, who refused to leave her home country, but as time continued, Chanté decided to grant guardianship to Calliope and Spencer and adoption papers are being processed. _

"_You never know what's missing in your life until it appears," Spencer says of 3 ½ year old Emeline, who had been snuggled in his arms earlier as if they were the only arms she'd ever known. "I can hardly remember life before Eme."_

_Calliope, the more vocal of the couple, nods in agreement, "What's important changes so quickly the second who hold your baby. The moment Alain put her in my arms, he looked at me and I knew he was asking me to take care of her. I looked down at Emeline, she was covered in soot and had a few scratches, but nothing major. It was a miracle. I tried to put her down so I could clean her off, but she wouldn't let go of my neck. I knew. I just knew."_

_Now the hard questions, the reason any of us know Calliope and the Sellers exist – the kidnapping and long-lost brother._

"_We're still unraveling the mystery now," Calliope admits. "[Kaden Kaytis] is my half-brother, yes. DNA tests came back positive. We're getting to know each other, slowly. It hasn't been easy, but it's happening."_

_Why now? Why, after all these years did Kaden come forward?_

"_He didn't," Spencer answers this time. He and his team of SSAs David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia, Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner, and Department of Defense Liaison, SSA Jennifer Jareau (formally part of this BAU team) found and saved both Calliope and Kaden while apprehending the two kidnappers. "Over time, Marty Draper and Tim Hossa deduced that Kaden was related to Calliope and used that to their advantage. Kaden followed her art career and they decided to kidnap her to make some quick money. Kaden was not a part of this. His 'friends' used him."_

_The question everyone wanted to know the night of was what Kaden was doing at the old textile factory if he wasn't involved. It turns out, Kaden had been there the previous day for a late lunch with Draper, who was working on the deconstruction of the building, and accidently left his wallet, which he realized when he went to pay for groceries. Retracing his steps led him back to the textile factory where he heard his half-sister screaming for help. Mystery solved._

_But the bigger mystery is how Kaden will be received into the Sellers family. The official Sellers Family statement, delivered by laywer Brendon Shawnessy, was "Mr. Kaytis is a rightful heir to the Sellers Family and all it encompasses. Legal matters take time and emotional ones take even longer. We appreciate the ability to go through this long process in private."_

_Privacy might not be in the future for the Sellers family and those who love them, but, after two years and a daughter together, we're left wondering what is in the future for the wishfully-private couple._

"_Nothing right now," Calliope shakes her head. "There's so much to deal with, neither of us can imagine adding more."_

* * *

**A/N:**

**WRITER'S BLOCK! IT PLAGUES ME SO! I'm sorry it's taken sooooooo freaking long. Two months long. It's a combination of the worse case to writers block in the history of ever - well, at least MY history of ever - and school and finals and hockey and more school and COMPLETE LACK OF INSPIRATION. There were many, many moments where I literally wanted to throw Fran against the wall. But I love Fran far too much for that. (To those of you who still don't remember, Fran is my MacBook). But I got it done. Eventually. I think AJ & Paget coming back with that awful Seaver character leaving was the final inspiration that got this done. Because I literally wrote the last 3000 words of it in the past two days. Coincidence? I think probably not. Nothing against Rachel Nichols, I'm feel bad for her because she was treated like crap, but the character sucked more than my algae eater and no actress could have saved Seaver. **

**Okay... let the hockey rambling commence. **

**OH MY *$&($*$)#**)#($*)(#! WE'RE GOING TO THE STANLEY CUP FINALS! FOR THE FIRST TIME IN 17 YEARS! I cannot contain my excitement. You have no idea. ****I'm freaking happy right now. crying. As soon as we won, I was legitimately bawling my eyes out. I screamed so loud I woke the people above us. It was midnight in Texas. My Mum was up visiting my aunt in North Texas and I**** totally called her at midnight to shout and cheer. I was crying so hard from excitement that I think she thought someone had died. ****WE'RE GOING TO THE FUCKING STANELY CUP FINALS!**

**But first - A recap:**

**ROUND ONE:**** WE BEAT CHICAGO! Granted... my boys decided not to show up for games four and five and game six was won by the referees, so I was really pissed, but WE STILL BEAT THEM! HA! Okay. Now I'm done. Okay, no I'm not. Alex Burrows scored the series winner in game seven overtime. Burr purposefully skated around Dank, who was trying to jump on him in celebration, so he (Burr) could do his bow&arrow celebration in tribute to his best friend Luc Bourdon, a D-man who was killed in a motorcycle accident in 29 May of 2008 - yesterday was the 3 year anniversary and I cried. I miss him so much. Anyways, the bow&arrow was Luc's trademark celebration and Burr (and Kris Letang of the Penguins) do it after big goals to celebrate Luc. But Burr was so excited that he lost his balance, slipped and fell on his back. Then everyone dog-piled him. That night, Bob McKenzie from TSN tweeted, "Somewhere, Luc Bourdon is smiling at his pal Alex Burrows." And I, being the emotionally unbalanced female I am, started crying. The next day, I was on tumblr and saw a 'shopped picture of the stat-report from Burr's goal. The goal was unassisted. Burr gloved it down, broke away, shot the rolling puck and buried it behind Crawford. It was one of those never-to-be-replicated sort of goals. But someone had screenshot the stat-report and, under Burr's name where the assist would be listed had there been one, added "Assists: Luc Bourdon." I cried so hard.**** Crawford was _sick_. He was definitely the MVP of the entire series. The kid was amazing.**

**ROUND TWO:Nashville... it was like the battle of the defense. To the naked/untrained eye, it could be considered a ridiculously boring series. To my eyes, it was intense. They're a classy team with a classy and fantastic coach. Pekka Rinne was freaking beast. He wasn't just standing on his head, he was doing aerials. Both goalies were. And RYAN FREAKING KESLER. WHAT A BAMF. I mean, he was such a beast. Oh my god. And then Tamby! In his first playoff game EVER - game six, he legitimately saved the game by chasing down Erat who was on a complete 1-1 breakaway and over a zone ahead of Tamby and then ((legally)) checking him so Erat didn't get a penalty shot! OH MY GOD. I was like, "...MARRY ME." lol! Play of the game. Without a doubt. And that's on top of Kes in beast-mode and Lu going all brick wall on 'em. Unfortunately, we lost Sammy. :( Out for the season with a sports hernia. Ouchie. But it definitely explains what could be considered a sub-par season. Can't wait to see him all patched up next year.**

**ROUND THREE:**** San Jose... Ohhhh NoWayJose! Sorry. I couldn't help it. What to say about San Jose... It was a realy good series, but, honestly, I wanted to play the Red Wings. But it was a good series which resulted in going to the STANLEY CUP FINALS! So I'm happy. The Sedins made everyone go like, "OMGWTFJUSTHAPPENED?" Literally. I'm so not joking. The commentators were sitting there going, "I have no idea how they did that!" and I was just like, :D Wizardous Sedinary... Ugh. AND KES WAS STILL BEAST! Just not _quite_ as beast as he was in the NSH series, though he did come back in injured during game 5 and then scored the game tying goal with 13 freakin seconds to spare, which lead to the OT that won us the series!. BUT KEVIN CHRISTOPHER BIEKSA! Ugh. First off, mad props to Marleau for dropping the gloves on Juice. A+ for guts. Secondly, GORRRRDIE HOWE HAT TRICK! Third, Three goals, three games, NBD. Fourth, HE SCORED THE SERIES WINNING GOAL IN DOUBLE OVERTIME! Like I said earlier, I screamed so loud I woke the people above me. Seriously, though, that man... he's been through so much with this team. People spent years screaming to trade him and I've been screaming "NO ARE YOU CRAZY YOU CAN'T GET RID OF HIM YOU'RE OUT OF YOUR MIND!" And now they're all finally realizing what I've known about him for five seasons. Of course, now they're all jumping on his bandwagon and pretending they've been there the entire time... You know who you are.**

**So i'm a happy camper. I'm be even happier when Hank raises Lord Stanley in a couple weeks though. :) CM, Hockey, MM is finally updated... all is right in my world.**

**Thanks so much for reading and, if you got all the way through this A/N, well... wow. That's just... wow. I probably wouldn't have had the dedication. :D Anyways Thanks for reading and tell me what you think - good or bad!**

**Love, Thalia**

**P.S. "Vancouver is a family, so we'll do it for Bourdon and we'll do it for Manny." (and Sammy)**


	53. Chapter 52

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_Remember that wherever your heart is, there you will find your treasure." – Paulo Coelho_

o o o o

14 November, 2010

"Poppy!" Emeline screeched out his name as she ran through the house towards Spencer's office. Hearing her footsteps barreling closer, he closed the file and locked it in the top drawer before she could see things he didn't want little eyes to see. "Poppy, Poppy, Poppy! I want ice cream, Poppy!"

"Really?" Spencer picked her up and set her down in his lap. "What kind?"

"Chocolate wiff gummie worms," Emeline told him emphatically as she tugged on his shirt.

"You are so your mother's daughter," Spencer shook his head and kissed her forehead. "C'mon, let's go get some ice cream."

Emeline cheered and latched her arms around his neck as he stood. Closing his office door behind them, they walked down the hall to the living room and kitchen. Spencer opened the freezer and pulled out the quarts of double chocolate chunk and coffee cake streusel ice cream from Bruster's. Closing the freezer with his foot, he put the quart on the counter and grabbed the chocolate sauce and whipped cream from the fridge. He sat Emeline on the counter next to the ice cream and toppings and turned around to get the gummi bears out of the pantry, bowls from the cupboard, and spoons and the ice cream scoop from the drawer.

When he turned back to Emeline, chocolate sauce was drizzled all down the front of her nightgown and smeared across her face. Spencer sighed and emptied his arms, putting everything down by the quarts of ice cream. He turned to grab the washcloth sitting by the sink before turning back quickly and grabbing the chocolate sauce from his daughter.

"Poppy!" Emeline reached out for the squeeze bottle of gooey goodness.

Spencer dropped the sticky bottle in the sink for wiping off and wet the washcloth. Pivoting back to the little girl sitting on the counter, he grabbed one of her hands and scrubbed the sugary substance from one, then the other. Thinking better of the way he was going about this, he put down the cloth and stood her up on the counter. Spencer pulled the nightgown over her head and dumped it in the sink where the mess could be contained.

"When is your mother getting home?" Spencer mumbled as he scrubbed all the chocolate from her face, neck, shoulders and arms. He took a step back and surveyed the damage. "You're going to need a bath."

"I had a bath," Emeline pouted.

"That was before you managed to get chocolate sauce in your hair, Princess."

"Poppy said ice cream."

"Ice cream and then another bath and then bed," Spencer picked her up and carried her over to the laundry room. Sitting Emeline atop the washing machine, he reached into dirty laundry hamper and felt out a new nightgown, this one with an image of Tinkerbell printed across the front. The nightgown went over her head and they went back to the ice cream waiting on the counter.

An hour later, after her second bath of the night, in her third nightgown and with a tummy full of ice cream and gummi worms, Emeline complacently let Spencer carry her into her bedroom. Her head lulled against his shoulder as he pulled the covers down, holding her tightly so he didn't drop her. Once Emeline was snuggled in bed with her eyes drooping closed, her thumb stuck in her mouth and the other hand clutching her stuffed panda.

"Mwen renmen'w, Princess."

"Mwen renmen'w, Poppy."

Spencer kissed her forehead and checked the blankets and nightlight before quietly backing out of the bedroom and pulling the door within an inch of being closed.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. She stretched her arms up over her head and felt her spine pop a few times. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, she wished all the paperwork in front of her would disappear. She cracked one eye open and groaned when the piles were still there.

The twinkle lights framing shop windows up and down Caroline Street sliced through the darkness and Calliope stretched a second time as she stood up to go to the window. "Go home, Brianne. I can do this," Calliope mimicked her own voice. "No, I insist, go home. _What_ was I thinking?"

Perses looked up at her from where he lay on the rug in the middle of her office on the second floor of The Hobbit Hole. He let out a loud breath and put his head back down on his paws, closing his eyes wearily. A day of office work could really wear a dog out.

Calliope glanced at the analog clock hanging on the wall and started when she saw the time. "Oh, man. It's time to go home, Pers. I can't believe it's one in the morning. I'll finish later."

The dog didn't get up until Calliope had finished putting everything away, had turned off the computer and was pulling on her thick winter coat. Once he was sure they were actually leaving, he stood lethargically and stretched. Calliope turned out the lights and they walked down the stairs to the first floor. Not surprisingly, the entire building was silent in the way silence can only exist in the middle of the night. Calliope locked doors as she passed them and checked all the lights to make sure everything was dark. She checked the iMac at the counter to make sure it had been shut down.

After activating the alarm, she and Perses slipped out the front door and locked the building behind them. The air was biting and cut through her jacket as they ran down the steps, away from the brownstone and towards the SUV parked down the street. Even with the heat turned all the way up, Calliope was still half-frozen as she pulled into the garage fifteen minutes later.

Calliope hung her coat up in the hall closet next to the garage door as Perses made a beeline straight for the bedroom. Calliope headed to the kitchen, rubbing her arms through her thick sweater as she grabbed the Rainbow Cookie Sandwich Pop-Tarts from the cupboard. Ripping open the silver packaging, she dropped them into the toaster and then climbed up onto the counter, reaching to the very back of the top shelf to pull out the Twinkies she'd hidden behind the fancy serving bowls she never used.

Spencer watched as Calliope grabbed a cellophane-wrapped Twinkie from the hiding spot she thought he didn't know about. She put the rest back behind the terracotta bowls and climbed down off the counter. He waited until she'd gotten the Twinkie out of the wrapper and shoved half of it into her mouth before walking up silently behind her and slipping his arms around her waist.

A mouthful of Twinkie muffled her scream and Spencer laughed into her hair as she turned her head to look at him. She coughed and sputtered as she choked on the cream-filled snack cake. "'Ow ommg adb oouu mombed?"

"Swallow."

"How long have you known?" She tried again a minute later.

"Since you started hiding them up there the day after I moved in with you." Spencer leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"Oh, so since forever?"

"Pretty much."

"You scared me. What are you doing up?" Calliope stuffed the rest of her Twinkie in her mouth and went to take the two Pop-Tarts out of the toaster.

"I was waiting for you."

"It's one in the morning."

"I know."

"You have to work tomorrow, String Bean."

"Did you remember to eat dinner?" Spencer asked as he watched her demolish the first Pop-Tart in record time.

"Yes, I remembered to eat. It was just seven hours ago and I'm hungry again, " Calliope rolled her eyes at his question.

"It's a legitimate question. You forget to eat when you get into a rhythm of doing paperwork. You forget to eat when you're painting too," Spencer leaned back against the island.

"Well, I didn't forget to eat dinner. I ordered from Fortune Gourmet. Chicken with cashew nuts. And pork dumplings. And rice," Calliope took a bite of the second Pop-Tart. Spencer suppressed a yawn as Calliope threw the Pop-Tart and Twinkie wrappers in the trash can and brushed a few crumbs into the sink. "How was Eme?"

"She had two baths."

"What happened?"

"Chocolate sauce."

"I told you not to let her near the bottle," Calliope wrapped her arm around his wait and leaned against him as they walked towards their bedroom. "She's becomes this chocolate crazed little monster and the chocolate sauce gets everywhere."

"Yeah, well…"

"No excuses," Calliope shook her head. "You just didn't believe me."

"No, I forgot. I wasn't thinking when I set her down next to the chocolate sauce." Spencer closed the door behind them. "Did you finish everything?"

"Not even close," Calliope sighed, yawning widely as she walked to the closet to change. "You should have gone to sleep. You didn't have to wait up for me."

"I know," Spencer slid under the covers, careful not to kick the dog already asleep at the end of the bed. Calliope came back out in flannel bottoms and Spencer's CalTech sweatshirt, pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail at the nap of her neck. She crawled under the comforter next to him and let him pull her close as he turned out the bedside lamp.

"I love you," she yawned, settling her head down on his chest and closing her eyes.

"I love you too, Sweetheart."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

17 November, 2010

Calliope reached up to grab a jar of grape jelly off the shelf and put it in the cart in front of her. Emeline chattered away happily from where she sat in the seat, munching on a box of honey Teddy Grahams. Crossing jelly off the list, Calliope pushed the cart forward.

By the time they made it to the checkout counter with a full cart, Emeline's good mood was souring rapidly and she had begun to fuss. Calliope tried to sooth her even as she hurried to empty the cart onto the conveyer belt. Emeline started crying and Calliope picked her up, patting her back and shifting from foot to foot in an attempt to calm her down.

"I know, Sweetie. It's naptime. I know, Eme. I'm sorry."

The teenager behind the counter seemed to anticipate Emeline breaking out into a fitful tantrum and hurried the items through the scanner and practically tossed them down to the sacker. Calliope slid her card through and signed the screen. Emeline refused to let Calliope put her back into the cart, squeezing her neck tightly and burying her little face into Calliope's windpipe.

Calliope silently cheered for joy when Emeline fell asleep on the way home and she tucked her into bed for her nap before going back for the groceries in the back of the SUV. Perses followed her back and forth, hoping she would drop something. As she moved items from bags to their place in the pantry, Calliope half-listened to the news playing on the flat screen in the living room. The journalist onscreen chattered happily about yesterday's announcement of Prince William and Kate Middleton's engagement and Calliope frown down at her own bare left hand.

"Waity Katie… it's more like Waity Callie," she grumbled, shoving paper plates onto the shelf. "I swear, if he makes me wait seven years, I _will_ kill him."

"In a grim note, the mutilated body of Kelly Landis was found by a homeless man late last night in Rikers Alley in the Georgetown. Members of the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit are helping to catch the killer. Kelly was twenty-two years old and had been on her way to her first day on Capital Hill when she was abducted three days ago."

Calliope stopped putting groceries away and watched, but the topic had already turned to Nancy Pelosi being elected the Minority Leader for the House of Representatives and Lisa Murkowski becoming the first write-in candidate to win election to the Senate in fifty-six years.

Sighing, she pulled out her cell phone and tapped off a quick text to Spencer.

_Are you going to be home tonight? – C_

Her phone rang seconds later. "Hey, String Bean."

_ "Hi, Sweetheart. I don't think so. I don't know when we'll finish, it's an early start tomorrow and it's an hour back to Fredericksburg. I was thinking about sleeping at Emily's."_

"No," Calliope said simply as she put away a large jar of creamy peanut butter.

_ "It's a two-hour round trip, Calliope."_

"No, I meant, 'No, don't sleep at Emily's,' not 'No, come home.' It's crazy to drive two extra hours when you could just crash in Washington," she started shoving all the canvas shopping bags into each one. "Can't you sleep at Derek's?"

_ "But I always stay at Emily's," Spencer said, puzzled at the sudden insistence that he not sleep at Emily's apartment. "She's just a friend, Calliope. She's like my sister."_

"I'm not stupid, Spencer."

_ "I know you're not stupid! I'm really confused. What just happened?" Spencer fed a dollar bill into the vending machine, followed by two quarters. When the money registered, he hit the button for a Coke._

"Genius to idiot in point-two seconds flat," Calliope sighed, suddenly tired. "I know Emily's your friend, Spencer. She's mine too. I didn't say 'no,' because I don't trust you to sleep there. Spencer, you've slept there a dozen times since you moved in here. Why would I suddenly be jealous a year and a half later?"

When Spencer stayed purposefully silent rather than fumble the situation further, Calliope foraged ahead. "We're starting to die-down in the magazines and tabloids and internet gossip. The article's working so far. But if the wrong person sees you coming out of Em's apartment with her tomorrow morning and snaps a picture on their phone, they're not going to stop and ask _why_ you were there. They're just going to start screaming 'Trouble in Paradise!' and 'More BAU Drama!' and suddenly every rag will be starring the newest love triangle – you, me and Emily."

_ "I didn't think of that," Spencer sighed and dragged a hand over his face. "Okay. I'll ask Derek instead. You'll give Emeline's a kiss for me?"_

"Of course. I love you, Spencer."

_ "I love you too, Calliope. I have to go. I'll call you later tonight."_

"Be safe."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"If he holds to pattern, Penny's already on day two."

"Today, the Georgetown Moniter will receive a photo," Rossi continued Hotch's thought.

"Whatever happens, we cannot allow another photograph like Kelly's to be published," Prentiss explained. "We need to get ahead of the media. They've already named him the Hill Ripper."

Reid dropped the empty Coke bottle into the trash bin and leaned against the table, studying his teammates as they deliver the profile. He couldn't go home with Prentiss, that was clear. Morgan had made an awkward excuse as to why Reid couldn't stay with him. García was obviously not an option for the same reason Prentiss wasn't an option. And he hated to take away any one-on-one time Hotch might get with Jack, so that left Rossi.

"What does he think _this_ is?" the deputy's question brought Reid out of his thoughts.

"A page from what we believe in a script was found inserted in Kelly's throat. Somehow, in the unsub's mind Kelly seems to have failed expectations," Reid crossed his arms across his chest.

"Although there were no sexual interactions, anti- or post- mortem, the removal of the lips is, in itself, a sexual act."

"A behaviour which tells us we're dealing with a borderline personality," Reid jumped in, cutting off Rossi almost before he was finished with his sentence.

"Based on the obvious theatricality of the case, we think he worked in or around the arts," Prentiss shifted the focus of the briefing and Morgan took over a sentence later.

"Three days may represent a three-act play, in which Kelly was the star."

"Kelly was killed three days after she was abducted. That means Penny may only have one day left."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Stretching out on the bed, Calliope opened her MacBook Pro and waited for the machine to boot up. She smiled when her background appeared – a picture of Spencer asleep on the couch with Emeline asleep on his chest. Not thinking, she reach out and touched the picture for a moment before withdrawing her hand. Calliope blinked. She dropped a finger on the drag-pad and guided the mouse down to the Safari icon. A quick double-click and the browser popped up, loading the page for her email. Second from the top, under a newsletter from Washington and Lee, waited the email she expected.

Kaden Kaytis.

She guided the mouse to the email and clicked once, stretching as the page loaded. They had been emailing back and forth for about a week. Mostly they spoke of superficial things, just talking about their days, both unsure how to move past the awkward barrier between them.

Calliope read through the short email detailing his adventures through teaching high school calculus and smiled when he told her about all the students coming to school wearing Harry Potter t-shirts and hoodies. His seventh period honours class had completely degenerated into discussions of who was going to the midnight premiere on Friday even though they had to go to school afterwards, which theater they were going, who they were going with and whether or not they were dressing up.

_I guess I'm not better than your students then!"_ Calliope wrote. _"My girl friends and I are dressing up and going to the midnight premiere here in Fredericksburg. I'm from Hufflepuff, Emily's wearing Ravenclaw, J.J.'s Gryffindor and Pen's from Slytherin. I'm so excited. I can't believe I was fifteen when Philosopher's Stone first came out. I still have my original hardcopies. They're all tattered and ugly looking, but I can't bring myself to replace them. It'd be like trying to replace my friends. Emeline and I are in the middle of Chamber of Secrets right now._

She wrote about The Hobbit Hole and all the new books they'd gotten in, about Emeline's adventures in her ballet class, which was more akin to a group of toddlers in ponytails running around in leotards. Her fingers paused over the keyboard when she heard a door open and little feet running towards her. Perses lifted his head and watched her as she quickly finished off the email, hitting send just before Emeline appeared in her doorframe.

The last line was left in a curt, _"Did you watch Steve McQueen movie growing up?"_

ooo ooo ooo ooo

The train station was busy and hurried as Reid stood next to Hotch and Prentiss in the middle of the flow of traffic. Reid turned his head to watch a women pass him, trying to think of how the unsub might have picked out Kelly and Penny.

"What's that?" Reid asked, having missed what Hotch had said.

"Just like that," Prentiss snapped her fingers, "IQ of a hundred-eighty-seven is slashed to sixty. How'd you ever talk to Callie?"

Reid frowned slightly as she walked away, but followed Hotch towards the group of chairs, only half listening to what the unit chief was saying. He responded, more on instinct than actually cognitive intention.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"The car, however, had reached the end of its tether. With two smart clunks, the doors flew open and Harry felt his seat tip sideways: next thing he knew he was sprawled on the damp ground. Loud thuds told him that the car was ejecting their luggage from the boot," Calliope felt Emeline snuggle into her side as she read. "Hedwig's cage flew through the air and burst open; she rose out of it with a loud, angry screech and sped off towards the castle without a backwards look. Then, dented, scratched and steaming, the car rumbled off into the darkne–"

The Kid From Redbank played from her phone, interrupting her midsentence. Emeline made an impatient sound and whacked the pages with her fist when Calliope started fishing her phone from her pocket instead of immediately starting to read again.

"Just a second, Eme. Let me see who's calling." Emeline kept tugging on her hand as she glanced at the screen to see Penelope's face staring at her. "Gimme a minute, baby. It's Aunt Penny."

Lifting the iPhone to her ear, she answered, "What's up, Ethel? Woah, clam down. Slow down, Pen! I can't – what's wrong? Okay, seriously, Pen, I can't understand what you're saying. Who died? Oh my God, is someone – Everyone's okay, aren't they?"

Calliope stood, holding a finger out to Emeline to say she'd be right back before heading to the laundry room and closing the door behind her, just trying to keep her breathing even. "Penelope, you're freaking me out here. Who's in the hospital?"

_"No one's in the hospital! What are you talking about?" Penelope's voice was high pitched and frantic._

"I don't know! I don't know what _you're_ talking about!" Calliope raked a hand through her hair, causing a few curls to turn on end.

_"I have to give a press conference. In front of cameras! And the unsub's going to be watching! I can't do this, Luce. I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this. Is Hotch crazy? I can't – I'm totally afraid of cameras, Callie! I can't do this. I need J.J. back. I can't be J.J. I just can't do it. I can't be J.J., Callie!"_

"No one wants or expects you to be Jayje, Babe," Calliope took a deep breath in relief. She spent the next several minutes talking Penelope off the ledge, or at least trying to. By the time the conversation had ended, Calliope just wanted chocolate in whatever form. She stopped in the kitchen for a second and opened the farthest drawer to the left.

"I could have sworn we had Toosie Rolls," she mumbled, knitting her brown when she found the drawer clean of sweets. "I guess Spencer took them to his office."

"Maman!"

"I'm coming, Eme," Calliope closed the drawer and hurried back to Emeline's bedroom.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Reid watched Rhett Waldon kneel to the ground with the fully dressed skeleton of his mother in his arms. Repulsed, he answered Prentiss' unfinished thought. "Kelly's lips."

Holstering his gun, Reid looked away from the morose scene. He didn't want to look at it anymore. All he really wanted to do was go home. Rossi caught his eyes for half a second, the fleeting contact silently communicating that Rossi's spare room would no longer be needed. If he were honest, though, Reid could fall asleep right now, but he needed – _wanted_ to be home.

Walking away from the scene, back to the black SUV with government plates and lights flashing, Reid overheard a few young officers mention going for drinks after their shift ended. With a quick sideways glance, he saw they were both wearing gold wedding bands on the left hands. Reid shook his head. He didn't understand how they could want to go out and drink when they could go home to their families.

Reid stopped next to the SUV and declined when Morgan offered him the keys. He didn't want to drive. He had a long enough drive back to Fredericksburg from Quantico. He didn't want to prolong the drive.

"You okay, kid?" Morgan leaned against the vehicle next to him.

"Yeah. Just tried. You? You haven't been the same since you got back from Chicago. Usually your happier after your mom's birthday."

"It was a long trip," Morgan admitted. "A lot of confrontations about the magazine article and Cal and Eme."

"I'm sorry," Reid sighed, looking down at his dirty Chuck Taylors.

"it's not your fault," Morgan shrugged before changing the subject. "Did you know García acted?"

"No," Reid looked up. "I didn't. I don't know how she could, though.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we were gone and she worked late four days this week. They must have had rehearsal at least one of those days. How is she getting away with missing so much of rehearsal and shows? We work a lot of the times when shows would be taking place. It just doesn't seem possible. It would be like one of us trying to teach a college course – we never know when we're going to be gone. We are incapable of making that sort of commitment."

Morgan pursed his lips. "I don't know. "C'mon, Kid. Let's go home."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

18 November, 2011

Calliope looked in the mirror and straightened her golden and silver stripped tie beneath her grey sweater. "Are you sure this is alright?" she turned to Spencer.

"Yes," he repeated for the umpteenth time. "Go. Have fun. When are they getting here?"

"In a few minutes. Then we're going to head over to the theater. I'm glad we decided here. It'll be less crowded than in D.C. Do I look alright?" Calliope glanced back in the mirror.

"You look like you just walked out of Hufflepuff's common room," Spencer assured her, giving the perfunctory answer he knew she wanted to hear. He had never fully understood why people would dress up to go to premieres – in fact, he'd never fully understood going to premieres. They were always loud and a huge ruckus. How could one enjoy a movie in a situation like that?

But despite his lack of understanding, Calliope, Penelope, J.J., Emily and Calliope's friends Brianne and Brittnee were all dressing up to go to the midnight showing of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One. Calliope bent down to smooth her tights and check her shiny black Mary Janes.

"Who is everyone else going as?" Spencer didn't look up from his book as he asked the question.

"J.J. and Bri are both from Gryffindor, Brittnee and Penelope are from Ravenclaw, and Emily's a Slytherin. You _sure _you're going to be okay?" Calliope turned away from the mirror a final time to pick up her black cloak.

"I have made it through an evening without you, Calliope. I think I can manage to keep Emeline and myself alive until you return," he flipped the page, his eyes flickering up to her briefly.

"She's getting a bit of a cold, though," she thinned her lips, glancing it the direction of Emeline's bedroom.

"And if she wakes up and isn't feeling well, I know where the medicine is. I also know the numbers to the doctor and the way to the hospital. It's going to be fine. Go and have fun."

The gate alarm beeped and Calliope went over to the panel on the wall to answer. Emily's voice crackled awkwardly through the speaker and Calliope entered the code to let them in. She started to head out the bedroom door, but stopped and hurried back to Spencer.

"I love you," she gave him a quick kiss.

"I love you too. Have fun.

"We will. I'm so excited. I swear, if you guys get called away on a case before the movie's over, I will catch and kill the unsub myself." Calliope's voice drifted back to him as she bounced away to let Emily and the others into the house.

Spencer grinned to himself. "She probably would too."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I don't know what to write for this author's note. I HAVE TOO MANY EMOTIONS.**

**HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER HARRY POTTER! I don't get to see it until tomorrow night. I'm going to go see it with Aunt Numero Uno, the same one I went with to go see Part One. I'm so excited. I can't wait. Neville is my absolute favourite fictional character in the history of ever. From the moment I first read _Philosopher's Stone_, Neville was my favourite. If I could only have one fictional character forever, it would be Neville. I'm so excited to see him be a badass on the big screen. Ugh. Too much excitement.**

**I know I always talk to you lot about hockey, but I don't really feel like rehashing my feeling about the Stanley Cup Finals again. You can go read the author's notes from Cracked Concrete chapters 29 & 30. That's where I talked about it.**

**Mason is feeling loads better - I mean, he's no where near playing again, but he's been doing a lot of signings around Vancouver. It makes me sad to see him in the brace, but seeing him smile and walking (even in the brace) is just, ugh, I don't have words.**

**MY SAMI AND JUICE ARE COMING BACK TO THE CANUCKS! I would have been absolutely heartbroken if we'd lost them. Sami is my absolute, nothing-will-ever-change-this favourite hockey player of all time. He's my hero. And Kevin is a very, very close second. Yall has listened to me rant about Juice. Gillis (our general manager, aka GM) has made it clear we're keeping Schneider! WHOOP! I can continue my crush on Ginger Jesus another year! We lost most of our fourth liners and, as much as I loved them as people, they're replaceable hockey players, so I'm not completely crushed, though I will miss all their off-ice stuff. We got Lappy and Higgy back - they've got such a bromance, you just can't separate them. I think it's illegal. Hoff decided to leave us. I'll miss him, but I'm not too broken up about it because he walked away from what I consider a very fair deal - it was exactly the same as the one Juice signed and, in my opinion, Juice could have gotten even more than Hoff did had he decided to go else where. Good luck to you, Hoff. The only loss I'm completely destroyed by is Raffi. Idk what else we could have asked him to do. Seriously? After this amazing season he's had, all the Canucks would offer him was the exact same contract as last year? How many more auditions does he have to take? I don't get it. He was worth exactly what the Coyotes gave him (2 years, 1.75 mil each), if not a little more, and Gillis should have offered him that instead of just one year, one mil. I'm going to miss Raffi so much. I trust Gillis, he's been the most amazing, gifted GM we've ever had and I wouldn't trade him for anybody, but I think he should have brought Raffi back.**

**Oh! This happened so many times yesterday and it just makes me laugh, so I'm going to share: Apparently, people who don't like the Canucks or the Sedin twins, think it's appropriate or valid criticism to say "The Sedins NEVER smile! Ugh. Do they even know how?" and every time I hear or read someone saying that, my immediate thought is, "OH NO! My pictures, gifs and videos are full of imposter Sedins! Damn those Swedish imposters!" lolololololololol**

**Everyone's been saying that Harry Potter is ending, that this last movie is marking the end of our childhood. And in some ways, I get that. I grew up with these books the same as you. I remember pre-ordering them and staying up all night reading. I've gotten the reading of the first book down to a science - if I read straight, I can read it in about seven or eight hours. I own three sets of the books, I own all the movies on DVD, I've got 1-4 of the Blu-Ray special editions, I've made up stories galore - not all of them written down and none of them finished... So I understand this thinking. Harry Potter was woven into so much of my childhood that it would _not_ be the same without it, _I_ would not be the same without it. But Harry Potter isn't _ending_. Harry Potter will never end. Jo said it the best - "Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home." It's impossible for Harry Potter to end, because the stories, the world, the characters and the friendships, _our_ friendships with these characters can't just be forgotten.**

**Harry Potter will never truly end. Jo has given us the most wonderful Time Turner of all - her books. And they will always be there to welcome us back.**

**Love, Thalia**


	54. Chapter 53

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

"_We come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly." – Sam Keen_

o o o o

3 December, 2010

"Can you hand me that?" Calliope called down to Spencer from where she stood up on the ladder.

"Hand you _what_ exactly?" Spencer looked around, trying to discern what 'that' was among the liberal amounts of Christmas-themed rubbish pouring out of boxes all around the room.

"That," Calliope repeated again, pointing somewhere to his left like the object was obvious. "That golden angel. The one there with the sparkling wings."

It took Spencer a minute or two of searching before he found the tiniest angel he'd ever seen in his life and held it up for Calliope to see. At her nod, he stretched up onto his toes and handed her the delicate decoration. Spencer looked around the half-decorated Hobbit Hole and sighed. "Why, exactly, aren't you paying someone to decorate instead of doing it yourself?"

"Because no one else does it right," Calliope told him as she hooked the angle on the strand of garland above the archway to the upstairs.

"I believe that was the thinking that killed Napoleon," Spencer rolled his eyes, but handed her a glass ornament.

"Didn't he die in battle? Or am I thinking of the wrong person?"

"Peptic ulcer and gastric cancer, actually; though some theorize it was actually arsenic poisoning. Even though multiple modern studies have discredited that theory, people still claim Napoleon was poisoned. I suppose assassination makes for a better story."

"Are you saying someone's going to poison me for micromanaging?"

"No, I'm saying you're going to give yourself an ulcer by stressing yourself out trying to do everything instead of delegating," Spencer held up a delicate crystal snowflake, but Calliope shook her head. Returning the snowflake to its' box, he rolled his eyes as Calliope instructed him to get the china mistletoe instead.

"I think I'll be fine."

"I'm going to repeat that to you when the doctor diagnoses you with heart disease or an anxiety disorder or an ulcer."

"No, you won't," Calliope shook her head and took the mistletoe. "You'll be too busy being upset with and worried about me to do the 'I told you so' dance."

Spencer didn't answer, because he knew she was right and he didn't want to admit it. "We only have the babysitter for another fifteen minutes, so you better start wrapping it up. We can do the rest tomorrow."

"The babysitters are Brianne and Dean," Calliope smiled at him.

"That doesn't mean we can take advantage of them because they're our friends. We told them we'd be back at nine."

"You're no fun," Calliope secured the last ornament before starting to climb down the ladder. She jumped the last two rungs and stretched. Spencer pulled her over to him and smiled down at her as she pushed up onto her toes and kissed him. Tangling his fingers in her hair, Spencer returned the kiss.

"C'mon, let's go," Spencer pulled back. "We'll come back tomorrow and finish."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

6 December, 2010

Spencer pulled his phone out of his pocket as he wondered what Hotch meant by 'different parameters' and what Dave could be working on. He hit Calliope's speed dial and held the phone up to his ear, waiting.

_ "Where are you going this time?" Calliope asked without saying hello. _

"How'd you know?"

_ "It's nine-fifty in the morning. Whenever you call me before ten, it's because you have a case. Classical conditioning, String Bean. Phone rings plus your face plus before ten equals Spencer isn't coming home tonight. So, where are you going?"_

"New Mexico," Spencer sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "Las Cruces, New Mexico."

_ "Alright. Emeline, stop that! Leave Perses alone!" Calliope's voice became distant as she turned away from the speaker of her phone to talk to Emeline as Perses gave a yelp of pain. "Stop pulling Perses' ear. Emeline Noel, do not make me pull this car over."_

"Calliope, pull the car over before you crash."

_ "Hush, you," she said back into the receiver. "Emeline, stop it!"_

"Okay, Calliope, call me back when you're not–"

_ "Just give me a second," Calliope snapped at him distractedly._

Spencer rolled his eyes as he heard her dump the phone into the cup holder, but stayed on the phone. They had already had one fight over something stupid this morning and he didn't want to start another one. So he waited and listened to her fight with Emeline, who finally listened when Calliope threatened to make her stay at Dahlia while she went to see Uncle Kaden without her.

_ "Maman, no!" Emeline started to cry._

_ "Then stop pulling Perses' ears. Spencer?"_

"I'm here," he answered distractedly as a pretty blonde he'd never seen before walked through the glass doors into the BAU. The woman was younger than he was, wearing jeans and a brown jacket and he had definitely never seen her before. Spencer heard Dave call out 'Ashley' and the blonde turned her head towards him. "What'd you say?"

_ "SPENCER! You weren't listening to me. Again!"_

Spencer winced at the anger in her voice. "I'm sorry."

_ "Don't give me that bull, Spencer. You were ignoring me this morning when I was trying to tell you that you were pouring peach tea into your coffee, you were ignoring me when I was trying to tell you about the adoption papers, and now you're ignoring me when I'm trying to tell – forget it. Just forget it! I'm done with this. I'm done with you right now. Have fun in New Mexico, Spencer."_

Even the disconnection clicking in his ear sounded angry and Spencer groaned. He was in trouble, he knew he was in trouble, and he was pretty sure he deserved to be in trouble. Spencer tapped the speed dial again and brought the phone back to his ear. It rang twice before going to voicemail. He tried again. This time it didn't ring at all, it just went straight to her voicemail.

"Calliope, I'm sorry. Please, call me back. Just call me back, please? I'm really sorry. I'll talk to you later. Have a good lunch with Kaden."

Pocketing the phone, Spencer adjusted the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. He could hear Emily and the blonde, Ashley, talking about concussions and hand-to-hand.

"I was remediated in the Academy also," Spencer interjected as his way of joining the conversation. The pretty blonde looked up at him as he stopped next to Derek.

"Agent Seaver, Dr. Reid," David made the introduction.

"Um, what was your issue?"

"Ah, what was my issue…? Um, marksmanship, physical training, obstacle course, Hogan's Alley, ya know, pretty much everything that wasn't technically _book related_. They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field."

Ashley looked like she didn't know how to respond and Hotch saved her from saying anything at all. "Agent Seaver's going to accompany us to New Mexico."

"She is?" Derek asked, the skepticism evident in his voice.

"She's consulting."

"On?" Derek's skepticism grew at the idea that this cadet could offer anything they didn't already know.

"She has a… _unique_ perspective," Rossi explained cryptically.

"They don't know?"

"Well, we weren't sure how you wanted to, um…"

"Seaver's not my original last name. It's my mother's maiden name," Ashley explained, matter-of-fact without lending any emotion to the statement at all. Spencer felt her eyes latch onto his as she continued. "Mine used to be Beauchamp. My father is Charles Beauchamp."

"As in the Redmond Ripper, Charles Beauchamp?"

"That's him," Ashely's eyes stayed locked on his. Pretty, clear, grey-blue eyes.

"Killed twenty-five women over ten years in rural North Dakota. I think, uh, you caught him, right Rossi?" Spencer looked away from Ashley in an attempt to regain his equilibrium. Even he could hear his voice waver. Her eyes unsettled him. Everything about her unsettled him.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"Emeline, you are trying my last nerve today," Calliope wrestled the struggling three-year-old out of her car seat. Emeline screamed as if Calliope had twisted her arm behind her back and broken it. A few people stopped to stare as Calliope finally managed to pull Emeline out of the car. She kicked the car door shut with her foot and Emeline grabbed onto Calliope's hair and pulled. Gritting her teeth against the sharp pain, she reached up and pried the little hands away.

"What has possessed you today?" Calliope growled as Emeline kicked her thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. If she could, Calliope would turn the clock back to seven and start the day over, because this just wasn't going at all the way she'd planned. Emeline had woken up hell-bent on chocolate chip pancakes and, when Calliope has said no and given her eggs, Emeline resorted to throwing a tantrum to try and get her way. It was nearly noon and Emeline was still pitching a fit for the record books. Emeline screamed again and Calliope put her down on the ground and crouched right next to her. "Emeline Noel, you need to stop right now, do you understand?"

Emeline sniffed and opened her mouth before changing her mind and closing it. She threw her arms around Calliope's neck and Calliope stroked the back of her head. "Are you going to be good?"

"Yes," she nodded, still pouting slightly.

"Okay. Let's go see Uncle Kaden, okay?"

Emeline nodded again and Calliope took her hand. Walking down the street, a few people stared and gawked, whispering her name and pointing. She hadn't been to downtown Williamsburg since the she'd been kidnapped. They rounded the corner and Calliope saw a woman snap a few pictures of them. Calliope thinned her lips and resisted the urge to swoop Emeline into her arms and shield her from the camera.

As they got closer to the restaurant, Calliope spotted hair the same bright shade of red as her own already seating in the outdoor seating for Second St. And he wasn't along. Two teenage girls were standing next to his table talking very animatedly. Kaden seemed flustered, but Calliope wasn't close enough to be able to hear what was being said.

"Ms. Sellers!" The hostess greeted her as she walked into the restaurant.

"Hi Christina," Calliope made sure to smile at her. "Can I just go out to the patio?"

Christina had barely nodded before Calliope and Emeline were on their way through the restaurant.

"Mr. Kaytis, please?" A girl with a blonde ponytail asked, holding a magazine in her hands.

"Maggie, I'm not signing your magazine. I wouldn't sign it in school and I'm not going to sign it now," Kaden shook his head adamantly. "Please, girls, I'm meeting someone for lunch. I'll see you in school tomorrow, alright?"

"Who are you meeting?" The other girl, who wore a lot of makeup and perfectly curled brown hair, looked around like she was trying to see who her calculus teacher could possibly be meeting. "Do you have a girlfriend, Mr. Kaytis?"

The conversation was obviously not going in the direction Kaden wanted and his face flushed. Still, he tried to keep control of the situation. "Angela, Maggie, this is highly inappropriate. You both need to go now. I will see you in school tomorrow."

"Please, Mrs. Kaytis," Maggie wasn't ready to give up yet. "Please just sign. I'll never ask again."

Kaden opened his mouth to say 'no' another time, but Calliope choose that moment to appear at their table.

"Hi Kaden," Calliope kept her voice cheerful as Emeline pulled her hand away and ran to Kaden, crying "Uncle Kaden!" joyfully and raising her arms for him to pick her up, which he did.

"Ohmygod!" Angela turned the three words into one and Calliope had a brief flashback to a nature documentary she had been watching with Spencer.

_ "If you ever find yourself too close to a bear, make sure not to show any fear."_

While Calliope was relatively sure neither girl had any intention of eating her face, the sentiment seemed to apply. Calliope still didn't understand why people were so fascinated by her, but these two girls were acting like they were face-to-face with Julia Roberts. Though, if these two stayed in Williamsburg, she was probably as close to a celebrity as they were going to get.

"Hi," Calliope kept a smile on her face as she greeted them. Emeline was busy demanding every ounce of Kaden's attention.

"Hi, I'm Maggie and this is Angela," the blonde pushed the words out as quickly as possible and Calliope had to wonder if she had done the same thing as a teenager. "We're in your brother's BC Calculus class."

"Is he a good teacher?" Calliope joked.

"He's the best," Angela nodded enthusiastically. "Um… Ms. Sellers… would you sign our magazines? Please?"

Calliope wanted to say no. Everything in her screamed for her to say no, but she had seen the way they had been pestering Kaden. She had never considered how this mess had been impacting him, hadn't thought about the people following and pestering him, taking pictures of him in the supermarket, or his students raising their hands and asking questions that had nothing to do with calculus.

"Alright. On the condition that you two leave Mr. Kaytis alone about this from now on. Deal?"

The two seemed to debate for a split second before nodding enthusiastically. The girls left happy and giggly a few minutes later with their pictures and autographs and Calliope plunked herself gracelessly into her chair.

"Thank you," Kaden said quietly as he tore a chunk of brown bread into smaller pieces for Emeline, who was stuffing them down like she hadn't eaten in a month. "I can't do that – it's inappropriate while I'm their teacher."

"Does that happen often?" Calliope asked as she opened her menu. She already knew what she was going to order, but she needed something to do with her hands.

Kaden paused before nodding. "Angela and Maggie are the most… persistent."

Calliope thinned her lips and was saved from answering by the waiter's decision to pop up at their table that moment. Kaden stuck with his water while Calliope ordered mango tea for herself and a glass of milk for Emeline, who made a few feeble attempts for chocolate milk before giving up and going back to the bread.

Emeline leaned back against Kaden and was about to shove a piece of bread larger than her hand into her mouth, but Kaden stopped her just as she opened her mouth as wide as she could. Kaden ripped the bread into three smaller pieces and handed them to Emeline one at a time.

Calliope watched with a faint smile. Her relationship with Kaden was taking time and was prone to awkward moments, but Emeline had fallen in love with Kaden just as quickly as she had falling in love with Derek or Emily. Sometimes Calliope wondered if children had the right idea – if trust could always been that easy. And then she remembered the cases Spencer worked. Then trusting became difficult again.

"Have you finished writing the finals for your classes?" Calliope asked the first question that came to mind and Kaden looked confused by the subject choice before laughing.

"Are you offering to be my test student?" Kaden joked. "Want to take the final and see if there are any mistakes?"

"I'll pass on that," Calliope laughed and picked up her tea. "I probably wouldn't catch them! Man, I haven't thought about calculus since my senior year of high school. I don't think I could do it anymore. Spencer would probably get a kick out of taking it, though."

"Doesn't Spencer have a PhD in math?"

"And engineering and physics," Calliope said, shaking her head like the thought still boggled her mind.

"I think I'll pass on that," Kaden deadpanned. "I don't think I want him pointing out _all_ the minute details or telling me how it's too easy."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"_So, um, how's it going with the agent whose father is a… ya know?"_

"How'd you know that?" Reid asked, startled by García's question that had nothing to do with the background checks they had just been discussing.

"_I might've looked into someone's hidden background... What?" The question sounded defensive. "I am not going to let some strange new person travel with my family and not find out who they are!"_

"I dunno," Reid wet his lips and glanced away from Seaver, who was studying files. "She seems fine."

"_What is that in your voice?"_

"What's what in my voice?" Reid tried to play it off. García couldn't possibly know. Not over the phone.

"_Oh my God, you think she's pretty!"_

Reid went cold at García's exclamation and his heart skipped a beat. "What? I never said that!" But his voice took on the high-pitched crack that either indicated he was panicked and lying or re-entering puberty.

"_Oh my God, you think she's pretty!" García repeated her statement, but her tone had changed. "Oh my God, don't you even think about it, Spencer Reid. You have a family, Spencer! You have a daughter and a dog and an engagement ring for Callie and don't you even dare! I can't believe you'd even consider someone other then Callie! I thought you loved her!"_

"I do!" Reid protested as guilt flooded him. Because he did think the cadet was pretty and he was attracted to her and his thoughts kept flitting back to Ashley Seaver instead of Calliope Sellers. He felt his stomach churn. "I do, García."

"_Make sure you remember that."_

And then the line went dead. Reid closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. He briefly thought about talking to Morgan, but quickly decided against it since he knew what precisely what Morgan's reaction would be if he did. It would probably take Reid a while to pick himself up off the ground when Morgan was finished with him.

"What's all that?"

Reid nearly jumped when he turned to see Harvey Brinkman, the chief of security, sanding uncomfortably close to him. Everything about this man left him uneasy. "Our, uh, technical analyst ran background checks on the suspects."

"Oh, I could've given you that."

"We typically gather our own intelligence. Our federal databases tend to have more, uh, detailed information," Reid explained, watching for Brinkman's reaction, studying him.

"Well, how do you know they're more detailed if you haven't seen ours?"

Passive aggressive. Reid didn't miss the slight challenge in his voice.

"It was nothing personal," Reid made his voice sound slightly apologetic and smiled. If he feed the man's ego a bit, he might show more.

"It's just… you could have asked." Brinkman smiled.

"Next time I will." Reid watched as Brinkman walked away and then turned, heading back to Rossi and Seaver with the file García had sent. When he got close enough to Rossi for him to hear a whisper, Reid expressed his concern about Brinkman. With a confused expression, Seaver asked why they would check out law enforcement officers.

"Law enforcement and security are the kind of jobs that would attract this unsub."

"Dennis Rader, BTK, was a compliance officer in Park City, Kansas. Kenneth Bianchi, one of the Hillside Strangers, worked as a security guard in California and Washington."

Her eyes didn't leave him as he spoke. They never left him when he was speaking. Spencer wet his lips and looked down.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

7 December, 2010

He had been showing off for her and he knew it. He spent nearly as much time showing off in front of Ashley Seaver has he did on the case and, because of it, he wasn't much help in solving the case. Not that the cadet had really understood it as showing off rather than him just being a socially awkward encyclopedia.

Derek had noticed, though. He had noticed and had not approved. A fact he made crystal clear in the parking garage back in Quantico.

"Reid." Derek jogged up as Spencer was dropping his go-bag in the backseat of his car.

"Yes?"

"I wanna talk."

"It's two in the morning, Morgan," Spencer scrubbed his eyes. "What is it?"

"Don't do this, Pretty Boy. Don't throw away everything you have for a serial killer's daughter."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Spencer looked at his shoes before looking back up at Derek. His partner's face showed exactly how much he didn't believe him. But Derek didn't speak. He reached into Spencer's pocket and pulled out his wallet. The soft brown leather one that Calliope had given him when she couldn't stand to look at his cheap Velcro one a moment longer.

Derek flipped it open and pulled out the first picture in the billfold, holding it up so Spencer could see it. The photograph, slightly frayed at the edges from living in his wallet for the past year, had been taken in Haiti. Calliope leaned against his side, her hair bright like fire in the sunshine and her smile infectious enough to make even the saddest person smile with her, and Emeline was thrilled in Spencer's arms, her arms around his neck and her head nestled on his shoulder.

"They are worth everything, Reid. Don't throw them away."

"I know that," Spencer snatched the photograph and his wallet from Derek's hands, and put them back in his pocket. "I know that."

"You aren't acting like you know that," Derek pointed out. "You've been acting like you want Ashley Seaver."

"That's not true," Spencer gritted his teeth.

"Reid. I've been your partner for six years. I've watched you change from a self-conscious egghead with no confidence to an agent who doesn't second-guess himself and knows exactly who he is and doesn't apologize for it. I know you, Reid. You can't lie to me," Derek crossed his arms over his chest. "I also know that Cal is the best thing that has ever happened to you. If you throw them away, you're going to regret it for the rest of your life."

Spencer stayed quiet, leaning against the car, as Derek studied him. Under Derek's scrutiny, Spencer felt very small, felt like he was being x-rayed.

"They're your happily ever after, Kid. Don't throw them away."

"What would you even know?" Spencer spat the words out and, even as they left his mouth, he regretted them. "You throw away every woman in your life before they can even know your middle name."

"If you were anyone else, I'd beat the living shit out of you," Derek's voice was low and angry. Dangerous. "You think you know everything, but there are some things you know nothing about and my personal life is one of those things. For your information, I had my happily ever after. It was taken from me. And there isn't a day that I don't wish I could do something to change that. So don't you dare think about throwing yours away. Because you might not get lucky enough to be given a second."

"What are–"

But Derek was already stalking away from him.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Spencer closed the door behind him and leaned against it; he'd thought about Derek's cryptic warning the entire way home. The house was dark except for a light in the hallway by the laundry room. He pulled his jacket off and hung it in the closet. Kicking his shoes away, he went to Emeline's bedroom and cracked the door open. Sure she was asleep, Spencer tiptoed in and knelt next to her bed. He gave her a kiss and whispered that he loved her and tucked the comforter securely around her before tiptoeing back out.

Slowly, he walked down the hallway to his bedroom, glancing at the walls as he did. The photos had changed since the first time he stepped into this house and now he could recall memories for a good seventy percent of the hanging images.

One picture caught his eye and he stopped. It had been taken in front of the International Spy Museum in Washington. Spencer had his arm around Calliope's shoulders and Dean held Brianne. The two women were both making faces at the camera, Dean was laughing and Spencer was just smiling happily. There had been a second picture taken – one where all four were smiling normally – but Calliope had chosen to frame this one and Spencer was glad.

He reached out for the picture hanging next to it and took it off the wall. In it, Calliope had her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist. They were both wearing swimsuits and Calliope was dripping wet. They were kissing by the pool at Dahlia during the Memorial Day barbeque last May and a blurry Emily and Eli could be seen in the pool behind them.

He could remember it like it was yesterday. She'd taken a running jump at him and nearly knocked them both backward. Spencer remembered being worried she was going to slip and fall and crack her skull open, but she hadn't. She had just nearly given him a heart attack. Jill had snapped the picture, along with several others that hadn't made the wall.

Spencer touched Calliope's face. She was… wonderful. She was everything to him. His stomach twisted as he remembered his thoughts about the pretty blonde agent-trainee. She was pretty, yes, but she wasn't his Calliope. Spencer shook his head and hung the photograph back on the wall.

Ashley was gone. Her time with the team was over and Spencer would probably never see her again. The chances of her being assigned in Quantico were slim to none and Spencer wouldn't have to deal with the temptation.

Calmed and reassured, Spencer hurried down the hallway to his bedroom, eager to see her and hold her. He reached out and twisted the doorknob, but the door didn't open. She'd locked the door. She was still mad at him. Spencer sighed and practically ran to the laundry room to get the key for the bedroom door. It was hidden there, taped to the bottom of the dryer.

Kneeling down, he felt along the bottom until his fingers found the key and jerked it free. Going back to the bedroom, he slipped the key into the doorknob. But it wouldn't turn. Spencer pulled the key back out and examined it. It was the right key. He tried again. And then a third time. He wandered back to the laundry room confused and then saw what he hadn't noticed before because he had gone straight for the bottom of the dryer.

Sitting in plain sight on top of the washer was the plastic casing for a new doorknob next to a Phillips-head screwdriver. And an envelope with his name on it in Calliope's loopy red handwriting. Dropping the key on the washer, Spencer picked up the envelope and ripped it open.

_ 'Sleep in a guestroom. C.'_

"No," Spencer whispered, stuffing the paper back into its envelope. He went to his office and pulled the lock-picking tools from his desk. It had been a gift from Derek, who had been teasing that Spencer needed to 'contribute something' in the field. Spencer hadn't told him that he already knew how to pick locks. He had learned quickly after his mother locked herself in her bedroom during one of her episodes for a third time. He tore the packaged open and pulled out precisely the tools he needed.

It only took about thirty seconds before Spencer had the door open. Calliope lay sound asleep on the far side of the bed. She didn't move when the door opened, but Perses raised his head at the end of the bed. His tail thumped on the bed twice and he put his head back down. Spencer patted the dog's head and knelt next to Calliope. He reached up and brushed hair away from Calliope's face; her eyelashes fluttered for a minute, but she didn't open her eyes until Spencer cupped his hand against her cheek.

"I'm sorry."

"Go away, Spencer. I changed the lock for a reason."

"Calliope–"

"Go away, Spencer." Calliope pushed his hand away from her face.

"Sweetheart, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Calliope rolled away from him. Spencer sighed and climbed onto the bed in his clothes. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest, burying his face in her hair. He felt her stiffen in his arms, but she didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry, Calliope. I love you. Please, listen to me. I was horrible today. You deserve better than that. I should never have ignored you, Sweetheart. I should have been listening to you."

"Yes, you should have," Calliope agreed with him.

"I'll be better," Spencer promised, kissing the back of her neck.

"Yes, you will."

And with that she pulled away from him, making a show of settling back to into a sleeping position on the side where he usually slept. Spencer sighed again, reaching out, but she jerked away from his hand the minute he touched her shoulder.

"Calliope, please."

"No, Spencer. No. I can't deal with you right now," Calliope sat up, her hair spilling down her back. "I don't want to deal with you right now. I'm so angry with you that I just don't even want to see you."

"Calliope–"

"Spencer!" Calliope slammed her hands down on the bed. "Do you not understand? You have more IQ points than I have money! Listen to me. For the first time this week, listen to me! Use your IQ points, for the love of God. I am two inches away from killing you, Spencer. Two inches. I changed the lock on the bedroom, because I cannot see you right now. I just can't! It wasn't a challenge. It wasn't a 'hey, if you can get into the room, you're welcome to sleep here.' It was a 'stay the hell away from me, because if I see you, you're going to die!' That's how much I cannot see you."

"I'm sorry, Sweetheart," Spencer started to try and talk to her, his words coming out in a rush, but Calliope pulled away from him and slid off the bed.

"I'm sleeping in the guestroom. If you follow me, I'll go to Grandpa's house. Or a hotel."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I HATE CALLIOPE SELLERS. I HATE HER I HATE HER I HATE HER. RAWR. I swear to God, she's trying to kill me. For the past two months, every time I pulled up this chapter to work on it, I turned into a raging homicidal maniac because Calliope just wouldn't cooperate. Everything I wrote was so OOC it was like I was writing a fanfiction of my fanfiction. It was awful. Seriously. I wouldn't let my dog read it, it was that bad. And Spencer has been conspiring with her. On Saturday, I actually printed out her picture and Spencer's, taped them on my wall and started throwing things at them. It was very cathartic, but it didn't actually help much. Actually, ya know, it might have, considering I managed to make it work two days later. Hmmm... Maybe I should have thrown things at them earlier.**

**In other news, this has been pretty much the most emotionally exhausting and horrific summer since the winter when my dad and grampa died within four months of each other. Which really wasn't helping my writing of _Mystery Muse_. I couldn't get into Callie's head when I was so sad. I don't even really want to talk about it, because I'll start crying again. Jonathan Toews sums it up better than I could: _"This is the worst summer in the history of hockey."_ I never thought I'd agree with Jonathan Toews on anything, but I finally do. And I really wish I didn't, because that would mean this entire awful summer was some sick nightmare.**

**I have class in an hour, so I have to go. And now I've made myself sad thinking about Rick, Demo, Derek, Wade, and all the players, staff and crew that died in the plane crash, so I have to stop and find some chocolate. I need to find better way of dealing with my sadness other than eating.**

**Thanks for reading, I hope you liked it, I'm sorry it took almost two months and please, tell me what you think - good or bad.**

**Love, Thalia**


	55. Chapter 54

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

* * *

_People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. – Elizabeth Gilbert_

o o o o

6 December, 2010

Spencer stared at the ceiling. The clock on the Blu-ray player told him it was four-thirty. He hadn't slept and he hadn't expected to. He had taken the couch in the living room, because he didn't want to sleep in their bed without Calliope – not when she wasn't there because she was furious with him. It just felt too weird.

He could have gone to one of the guestrooms, but he didn't want to feel like a guest in his own house. Spencer stretched and rolled onto his side, pulling the thick blanket up over his shoulders to cut out the cold in the air. Closing his eyes, he tried to think about every interaction he'd had with Calliope in the past week and not a single one would warrant the greeting he'd received. The fight yesterday morning would have simmered out by now. He was used to his sweetheart having extreme reactions, but this was extreme even for her.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

Calliope buried her face in her pillow and tried to breath evenly. She squeezed Burt against her chest, tucking her legs up and curling around the stuffed bear. She'd wrapped the bear in one of Spencer's soft, worn button down shirts and every time she took a breath, she inhaled Spencer's scent. It was comforting and painful at the same time.

Perses snorted in his sleep and Calliope squeezed her eyes shut. She just wanted to sleep. If she slept, maybe she would wake up and the entire thing would be a nightmare. Maybe she would wake up and the world would be back to normal for them. But even as she wished, she knew she wouldn't wake to normalcy. She would wake up to the same turmoil that kept her awake, tossing and turning, right now.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

"_Hey Ethel!" Calliope held the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she watched Emeline colour a picture of Rapunzel and Flynn Rider._

"_Hey, Luce."_

_Calliope could hear Penelope typing away on the other end of the line. "Is there an ETA for our family yet, or is it too soon to know."_

_The typing stopped. "Why aren't you calling Boy Genius?"_

"_Oh, I'll call him later. We had a fight and I'm still not ready to say 'I'm sorry' just yet. I'll be ready in an hour or so. But I still wanted to know if there's a chance he'll be home tonight."_

"_What… um, what'd you fight about?" Penelope wrung the bumblebee ring on her forefinger anxiously._

"_It's just one of our stupid fights. Whenever I try to tell him something lately, his attention's elsewhere. You know," Calliope laughed lightly, "this morning he accidently put peach tea into his coffee instead of milk. I kept trying to tell him, but it was like trying to talk to someone in Russia through a tin can and a piece of string. I might as well have been pantomiming to Stevie Wonder. His face was pretty hilarious when he took a sip of his coffee, though. I got a picture of it. Of course, I was angry at the time, so I was saying that I was going to show him that picture every time he wasn't listening to me. I think I'll just print it out and put it on the wall."_

"_Oh good. I thought you were fighting about–" Penelope stopped herself, clasping her hands over her mouth and jostling her headset. Unfortunately, she had caught every ounce of Calliope's attention._

"_Fighting about what?" Calliope asked, her body tense in apprehension. "What did you think we were fighting about?"_

"_Nothing!" Penelope was a terrible liar._

"_Penelope García, what are you talking about?" Calliope demanded, keeping her voice low so she didn't attract Emeline's attention. "What's going on?"_

"_Well… No, nothing," she said vehemently. "I didn't mean anything. I was just confused."_

_ "Don't lie to me, Ethel. What's going on with Spencer? We've had worse fights than this. We've had stupider fights than this! What did he say? Penelope!"_

_ "He didn't say anything," Penelope tried to deflect the conversation, but Calliope was having none of that. This is why she stayed in her cave! She didn't have to lie to technology!_

_ "What did he do?" Calliope demanded. "What don't I know, Pen?"_

_ Calliope felt her heart rate quicken. This was just supposed to be one of their stupid fights that they would yell out and laugh about later. This wasn't supposed to be this terrifying. Sitting down, Calliope put down the contract she had been holding on the table and started picking at her bottom lip with the nail of her thumb and middle finger._

_ "Pen, you're scaring me. What's going on?"_

_ "We have this new girl traveling with the team on this case," Penelope cracked and the entire story came tumbling out like water from a broken dam. Calliope sat still and listening, getting more and more numb as the seconds wore on. _

ooo ooo ooo ooo

7 December, 2010

Spencer heard the door open and close and sat up to see Calliope trudge out of the bedroom in her flannel pajamas and thick robe. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and her nose was bright red and she had probably spent the rest of the night crying. She looked wiped out, like she had been run over by a truck. He knew for sure that this wasn't about him not listening to her. She would never have spent the night crying because he hadn't been listening. Throw her shoes at him? Sure, she'd do that. She would backhand him in the stomach and yell at him. She would foam and be angry, but she would never cry like this.

Spencer pushed himself off the couch and Calliope jumped. She hadn't been expecting to see him sleeping on the couch. Or, rather, _not_ sleeping on the couch.

"Calliope–"

"Go away, Spencer," she steeled her face and walked past him to the kitchen where the coffeemaker waited for her. Spencer followed, waiting quietly as she poured coffee ground into the filter.

Something else was wrong. He just didn't know what.

"Sweetheart…" Spencer paused, not only unsure of how to ask the question, but unsure if he really _wanted_ to ask the question at all. Calliope didn't respond as she dropped two frosted Pop-Tarts into the toaster. "Sweetheart, are you pregnant?"

Calliope slammed the lever on the toaster down with such force that it popped back up and the Pop-Tarts nearly jumped out of the toaster all together. As she whirled around, Spencer knew he's asked the wrong question.

"So I can't be upset without a biological reason?" She snapped at him. "Do I need a doctors note to have a less than appealing disposition? Maybe I should have a psych eval every time I frown! Oh! Oh! I could wear a mood ring embedded in my forehead!"

There was no right way to handle this situation. Any action was a shot in the foot, yet inaction was a shot in the other foot. Either way, he was in trouble. Though, he didn't have to say anything just yet, since she was still ranting.

"'Calliope's angry with me! She must be pregnant. There's absolutely no other reason for her to be mad.'" Calliope slammed the cabinet shut after pulling her favourite mug from the second shelf.

"I'm sorry!" Spencer jumped in the second she stopped for breath. "I didn't mean that you couldn't be upset."

"I can be upset any time I want." She snapped at him.

"I know you can. I never meant to imply that you couldn't," Spencer spoke quickly before she could start another rant. "Calliope, Sweetheart, can you please tell me what we're fighting about?"

"You know very well what we're fighting about!"

"I really don't."

"Well, if you don't know–"

"You're certainly not going to tell me," Spencer sighed, tripping over one of Emeline's Barbie dolls as he took a step towards her. "Calliope, please. Please, just tell me why you hate me and if there's anything I can do to make you like me again!"

Calliope turned on a swivel, dangerously leaving her coffee on the counter as she stalked in the direction of the door leading down to the basement. Spencer followed less then a foot behind her and had to be very careful not to tread on her heel. Neither of them spoke until the basement door was closed behind them and they were at the bottom of the steps, the cold cement floor even colder against their bare feet.

"Sweetheart, please, tell me what I did wrong."

"Would you like me better blonde?" Calliope asked, both her face and her voice calm and inquisitive and almost completely void of the fury bursting out of her.

"What?" Every milimetre of his body felt icy and Spencer's heart clenched and his stomach lurched violently.

"You know, blonde hair. Maybe with matching blue eyes and a serial killer for a father," Calliope crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him with a raised eyebrow. Spencer felt himself shrink at least a foot.

"Ho – I – what –" Spencer sputtered out words that made no sense. "Ho-how did you–"

"Oh! OH! So it's all right to _ogle_ other women so long as I don't find out about it?" The shouting was back.

"I wasn't ogling her!"

"HA!"

"I wasn't!"

"I should watch out. J.J.'s a blonde. You start ogling her next. Oh, what if Penelope decides to go back to blonde. You know, the girl at the coffee shop's blonde as well."

"Stop it! You're being ridiculous."

"I'm being ridiculous? _I'M _being ridiculous?"

"Yes!"

"Well, excuse me for expecting a tiny bit of loyalty from the man I've been dating for two and a half years! Excuse me for thinking I can trust him not to gawk at every pretty girl he sees. Excuse me for being angry when I find out that I can't!" Calliope picked up a roll of packing tape sitting on a cardboard box a bit away from her and hurled it at him.

"I wasn't gawking at her!" Spencer shouted back at her as he ducked the tape. The tape clattered loudly as it knocked into something metal behind him.

"Liar!" Calliope launched the scissors at him and Spencer was lucky that the handles hit his arm rather than the blades. "Spencer! I can't believe you! You! Of all people! Dave, sure! But you!"

Spencer ducted a third object, one he hadn't had a chance to identify before it came sailing at his head. "Will you listen to me for a second, Calliope?"

"No!"

"I wasn't gawking at her!"

"So Penelope was lying just for fun, then? Is that it?" Calliope reached for the next aerodynamic object within reach. "Just wanted to see what would happen, did she? And Derek was in on the joke!"

"Morgan?" Spencer was so surprised he didn't duck in time and the wooden box crashed into his shoulder.

"Yes. Derek Morgan. Tall, bald, goatee. Loyal, trustworthy. Remember him? Or do you only remember pretty blonde girls?"

"Morgan called you?" Spencer's shoulder ached and he began to fill with anger to match his throbbing shoulder. Derek had already stopped him in the parking lot! He could have at least given him a few days before going to Calliope!

"No! I called Penelope to see if you were coming home tonight. And she was acting funny. So I started getting worried that something had happened to you and the last thing I'd said to you was that I didn't want to deal with you! There I was worried that you were hurt or dead and then she finally cracks and, no you're fine. You've just LOST YOUR MIND! Then I called Derek and he very reluctantly confirmed it!" Calliope looked around for something else to throw, but nothing the right size was in her immediate reach. Spencer took his chance and snuck towards her. "Let go of me!"

"Not a chance," Spencer shook his head, tightening his arms around hers so she couldn't try to wiggle loose. "Calliope, please listen to me."

"I don't want to!"

"Well, I don't really care. Listen to–"

"That's more than obvious! Let–go–of–me."

"I let go of you and you're either going to keep hurling things at me or run away!"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do!" Calliope looked up at him and Spencer kissed her. He winced when Calliope dug her acyclic nails into his arm.

"I wasn't ogling Ashley."

"Oh? You weren't? What exactly _were_ you doing then?"

"Being an idiot," Spencer sighed and pressed his forehead against hers, hoping she'd stay calm long enough for him to make a sincere attempt at an apologetic explanation. "Calliope, I'm sorry. I love you, Sweetheart. I just… I've never… I'm doing a terrible job trying to defend myself, aren't I?"

"Johnnie Cochran would not be impressed."

"Calliope, I don't want anyone but you."

"Then why were you acting like a show poodle in front of Ashley Seaver?" Her words were forced through clenched teach and Spencer had to admit her analogy wasn't too far off from what he had been doing.

"I'm sorry. I've never considered a woman other than you. I was just – I was just caught unaware of being attracted to someone else."

"I feel so much better."

"Calliope, I didn't mean… I'm sorry, I was confused and I didn't handle it well. I promise, it won't happen again."

"You are so full of shit, Spencer Reid! If you want her, go! I'm not going to keep you here! If you don't want me, I don't want you! IF YOU WANT TO LEAVE, JUST LEAVE! GO!" Calliope shouted, her face red and splotchy and she fought back tears. "IF YOU WANT HER, JUST GET OUT AND GO TAKE HER! BUT DON'T STAY HERE! GO. IF YOU WANT TO GO, GO! I DON'T NEED YOU!"

Spencer knew she didn't mean what she said, but they hurt nonetheless. The words hurt more than the two fists she beat against his chest.

"GO!"

"I DON'T WANT TO GO!" Spencer shouted back, grasping her face between his hands and forcing her to look at him. "I DON'T WANT HER. I WANT YOU."

"THEN WHY WERE YOU DROOLING ALL OVER HER?"

"BECAUSE I'M STUPID!" Spencer blurted out the first thing that came to mind and the three words started Calliope so drastically that her face went blank and her hands stilled. Then she broke down into an awkward, confusing combination of sobs and giggles. Calliope flung her arms around his neck and Spencer didn't wait to wonder why; he crushed her against his chest and smashed their lips together.

Calliope couldn't breath. Spencer's arms were so tight around her chest that, had she cared, she might have worried about her ribs. She didn't care, though; in fact, she wanted him to hold her tighter. She was still angry, still hurt, still everything she had been a minutes ago, but that didn't change how much she loved him and how much she wanted what he said to be true.

"I love you, Sweetheart."

"I love you, too," Calliope wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him again and Spencer secured his grip so he wouldn't drop her. Concentrating solely on each other, the two stumbled backwards slowly until Calliope's back was pressed against the cold basement wall. Spencer's apology was lost against her lips.

"Shut up," Calliope kissed his jaw when he tried to pull back and apologize audibly. Her thin fingers tangled in his hair and she flattened herself against his chest. The worst of their fights often 'ended' this way. They would have an intermission after the most volatile of their argument and make up like teenagers before finishing the argument far less explosively when they were calm and more reasonable.

Digging his fingers into her waist, Spencer pressed her against the wall as she clamped her arms around his neck like a boa constrictor, bruising both their lips as they kissed. It always amazed him how strong such a tiny woman could be when she felt like it.

"Spencer," Calliope broke the kiss and they both gasped for air, Spencer resting his forehead against hers.

"I don't want to leave," Spencer whispered, his breathe hot against her cheek.

"I don't want you to leave," she shook her head and gave him a quick, light kiss. "Do… do you want her?"

Spencer shook his head, kissing her again. "How could I want her when I have you? I was stupid in a moment of confusion and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sweetheart."

"I'm still mad at you." Calliope closed her eyes and burrowed her head into his neck. Spencer ran a hand over her hair, kissing her temple and as she put her feet back on the ground. With her feet on the ground again, her words weren't spoken against his neck so much as they were muffled by the dark green wool of his sweater. Spencer smiled sadly against the top of her head, whispering that he knew she was.

"Are we okay?" Spencer tilted her head up, looking into her puffy, bloodshot eyes with serious concern. Her cheeks were still tearstained and the tip of her nose was red the way it was when she had a cold. In this moment she was about as unattractive as he'd ever seen her and all he wanted to do was wrap her up and take care of her. He'd made her look this terrible; this was entirely his fault and, if he could, he would kick himself around for a few thousand miles. Though proving to her that he regretted ever paying attention to Ashley Seaver would be a far better use of his time. "I know we're not okay now, but will we be okay?"

"You don't want her?"

Spencer shook his head. "I want you. I want you and Emeline and everything I have with you two."

'She's gone after this, right?" Calliope snuggled into his arms.

"She's gone," he nodded with a laugh.

"Good. Then, yes. We'll be okay," she ran the back of her hand under her nose. "I'm sorry. For locking you out of the bedroom."

"Please don't do that again," Spencer looked at the floor. "Even if I deserve it."

"You didn't deserve it. Let's go back upstairs. My feet are cold."

Calliope threaded her fingers through Spencer's and let him lead her up the stairs and into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around her waist while she filled two huge mugs with coffee from the coffee machine. She poured sugar into both mugs, twice as much in Spencer's as she did in her own. The entire time, Spencer recited sonnets from the Robert Browning anthology that belonged to her grandmother.

"Do you still love me?" Spencer asked softly when she handed him his coffee.

"Of course I do," Calliope stretched up and kissed him. "Do you still love me?"

"Always."

"Wanna watch _Doctor Who_?" Calliope didn't want for an answer, she already knew what it would be, and went to grab one of the old VHS tapes off the shelf beneath the television in the living room.

"Which serial?"

"Serial ten. _The Dalek Invasion of Earth_?" Calliope read the front of the tape. "Is that one okay?

"I like that one," Spencer stopped next to her. "Here, I'll put it in."

"I know you do," Calliope handed him the cassette and grabbed the remote, bringing the mounted television to life. "We should get these on DVD before the all of the VHS die. They're twenty years old."

"We'll probably have to order them. I doubt they'll keep the old serials in the store. The machine won't eject the tape in there."

"What?"

"There's a VHS already in the VCR and it won't come out. It's just making this grinding noise, shifting and then stopping," Spencer looked up at her and Calliope pursed her lips. "I'll take it to Lance later today and see if he can fix it."

"Later today?"

"Yeah," Spencer nodded and stood up with the _Doctor Who_ tape in his hand. "I think I'm going to stay home today. Spend the day with you and Eme. They can get through a day without me."

Calliope threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, crying all over again.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

8 December, 2010

"Good morning, Emily," Reid smiled as Prentiss sat down at her adjacent desk.

"Hey, Reid. You have a good day off?" Prentiss asked, turning on her computer.

"Yeah. I needed it. Calliope and I took Emeline to The Bug Box. She loved it, but now she wants a tarantula and Calliope's saying 'no' at the top of her lungs," Reid laughed.

"What's The Bug Box?"

"It's this place in Fredericksburg, on Courthouse Road. It's kind of a bug zoo for kids. I actually had a lot of fun. Emeline loved the entire place. Calliope was a little more squeamish, especially when it came to the tarantulas and the cockroaches."

"A tarantula, huh?" Prentiss shuddered. "I'll pass. Spiders as pets? Ugh. I just – no thanks. The cockroaches would have gotten me too. Please tell me you're not going to get a tarantula."

"We're not getting a tarantula. Emeline will forget about it in a few weeks. We just have to keep saying no until then. The Bug Box had a great collection of creatures. They had quite a few scorpions that was interesting. The _Gromphadorhina portentosa, or the_ Madagascar hissing cockroach, was so cool. They're one of the largest cockroach species, at about four inches long when they're adults. They actually hiss by forcing gas through the spiracles on their thorax and abdomen. _Gromphadorhina portentosa _is the only insect that produces a hissing sound in that way, through spiracles. All other insects hiss by rubbing body parts together the way grasshoppers rub their legs together. Spiracles are small holes in the exoskeleton of an arthropod that allow them to, basically, breathe through their skin. That's why the best way to kill a cockroach is by dousing them in bleach, a mixture of bleach and boric acid is the best – because they breath in the bleach directly into their body. You'd think they could drown in regular water that way, by breathing the water directly into their skin, but they can't. After about thirty minutes to an hour of being submerged in the water, they'll appear dead, but they're not and they'll revive themselves."

"I have never wanted to know that much about cockroaches in my entire life," Prentiss couldn't control the disgust on her face.

"Sorry," Reid apologized sheepishly. "So what happened yesterday?"

"Nothing really. Ashley put in a request to finish her remedial training here. She called me herself."

"What?"

"Yeah, Rossi and Hotch approved it this morning. I'm going to be her training agent."

"Are you sure that's wise? After what happened last time? She nearly got herself killed. She forced Hotch to kill an unsub in front of his daughter. She's not ready to be in the field, even in training. It's too risky. Besides, we don't have time to babysit an academy cadet when we're trying to catch a killer," Reid started to sweat as he protested and his brain whirred far too fast for his mouth to keep up with. Ashley Seaver couldn't be coming back. It was too dangerous for her to come back. It was too dangerous for him to spend time with her. "She didn't help at all in New Mexico. There's no extraordinary reason for Agent-Trainee Seaver to be made the exception to the rule and be allowed to train in the field with the BAU."

"Oh, that's a little harsh, isn't it, Reid? She brought up that a serial killer wouldn't allow his family to have a pet. And that a serial killer father would be overprotective of his children," Prentiss protested.

"The pet thing? Please. That's homicidal triad one-oh-one. That's the first thing you learn in any basic criminology class. We all already knew that. Cruelty to animals, obsessional fire setting and chronic bed-wetting. We talk about it at least twice a month," Reid scoffed. "Okay, overprotectiveness could be helpful, but it's hardly contribution enough for special treatment. She's a liability. A liability to herself, to us, to the local LEOs, everyone. She doesn't know what she's doing."

"That's what she's supposed to learn."

"An elite, highly depended upon team is not an appropriate place to learn it. There's a reason you have to have experience as an agent and then go through another two year certification training once you've been selected," Reid stood, holding his empty mug. Prentiss stood as well and followed him to the coffee machine.

"They made exceptions for you," she pointed out.

"Yes and I had exceptional circumstances to merit an exception being made to the rule."

"Why don't you like her?" Prentiss crossed her arms over her chest. "You seemed to like her fine. What changed?"

"I have nothing against her," Reid said quickly, pouring sugar into his coffee. "And before she was just 'consulting;' she was tagging along on a single case. Now she's going to be here indefinitely? Emily, we don't have time to babysit a cadet. This team – this team's a family. We've already lost J.J. and now we're taking care of a child and that puts all of us in danger. If we're busy coddling Agent-Trainee Seaver than we're not paying attention to everything else we need to be doing and when we're lax in our attention then we become careless and that's how we loose agents. I don't want her here because I don't want anything happening to this family."

"Well, you don't have to worry, Reid. I'll take care of her." Prentiss shook her head and reached out to put a hand on his arm. "You and everyone else will all be a hundred percent focused. You won't have to think about Seaver at all. It's going to be fine, Reid. I'll deal with her."

"So we can loose you?" Reid raised an eyebrow. "I need some aspirin."

"Why?"

"This entire thing's giving me a headache."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

10 December, 2010

Spencer fell into bed close to midnight and stared up at the ceiling as Calliope rolled towards him in her sleep. He kissed her hair mindlessly. Today had been Ashley Seaver's first day as an official intern of their team and Spencer had been on edge every second of it. In the end, it hadn't gone too badly if he omitted the way the case had ended, with Derek letting his emotions get the better of him and arresting Sanderson when they did not have a single shred of submittable evidence to prove that he was guilty. As a result, Derek was in Chief Strauss' doghouse, which meant the entire team was in Chief Strauss' doghouse, and by the time Spencer pulled into his garage, he had a raging headache.

Calliope mumbled something about Oreos and Aragorn and Spencer laughed slightly, hugging her lightly enough that she wouldn't be disturbed. Her dream world was something else. She was something else entirely.

"Love you, Sweetheart," Spencer whispered as the aspirin started to ease the dull pounding at his temples and he closed his eyes. There was a mumble about Cogsworth in a dress as Spencer let himself drift to sleep.

ooo ooo ooo ooo

17 December, 2010

"Okay… tell me again," Calliope sighed as she held the phone in one hand and the pen poise in her left.

_ "Callie, he knows you can't cook. You gum up pasta nine times out of ten, why are you trying to cook a big meal?" Jill's voice was a bit exasperated. "He's not going to suddenly be outraged if you just order out a pizza or Chinese."_

"He's been weird since that Ashley girl started training with the team. I don't know… like he's not all here. I'm scared, Jilly. I know I told him to leave if he didn't want to be here, but – but I don't want him to go."

"_If he wants some stupid bimbo, let him go. He's not worth–"_

"Do you remember right before you married Steve? We were at Dalhia and we were out in the stables. It was, like, two in the morning and we were sitting in Esther's stall. You said you knew Steve was the one, the only one, because when you looked in his eyes you saw your future, you saw everything you ever wanted and everything you ever needed. That when he was there with you, you knew you were complete. That trying to imagine living the rest of your life without him was like trying to imagine living without breathing."

"_I remember."_

"Jill, that's how I feel about Spencer. I need him. He's my other half."

_"Two large onions," Jill sounded more understanding, maybe even close to pitying, as she repeated the first ingredient._

"I have that," Calliope tapped the onions as if Jill could see.

_ "Chop them up and put them into the four-quart sauce pan. The saucepan should be on low. Coat the onions in extra virgin olive oil."_

"How much?"

_ "A lot. Just coat it liberally."_

"A cup? Two cups?"

_ "All of the onions should be coated and then a little extra."_

"Jill, come on. Please just tell me exactly how much," Calliope pushed her hair out of her face, nicking herself in the forehead with the felt tip of her blue pen.

_ "Callie, there __isn't__ an exact amount. You can't mess that step up. You'll be fine."_

Calliope didn't look as sure as Jill sounded, but she let it go and continued writing down the instructions. "How much oregano?"

_ "Just coat the top of the sauce. Cover it with oregano until it looks right."_

"Jill! What's 'right?' I don't know what 'right' looks like!"

_ "Snap a picture and text it to me and I'll tell you if it's right."_

Calliope could practically see Jill roll her eyes. Writing the rest of the instructions didn't take too long and Calliope read them back to her just to make sure she was starting off with all the correct information.

"I can call you if I mess up, right?"

_ "Of course. But if you wake Ben up, I'll kill you."_

"How am I going to wake up my precious baby nephew by calling your cell phone? You know, the one you always keep on vibrate in your pocket?"

_ "I don't know. But if you do, I'll kill you. Call me if you need help, but clams and linguini is impossible to mess up. You'll be fine."_

"You're talking to the woman who exploded a chicken in the oven. Nothing is foolproof for me."

_ "I still don't know how you did that."_

"I don't know how I did it! The fireman didn't know how I did it!"

_ "Are you sure–"_

"Yes! The chicken was thaw!"

_ "Okay, okay. If you say so. Go cook. I have a hockey game on the DVR to watch. I'll talk to you later."_

"Okay. I hope the Wing Reds win."

_ "The Red Wings."_

"Them too."

_ "Goodbye, Crazy."_

"Goodbye, Curly." Hanging up the phone, Calliope grabbed one of the onions and put it on the cutting board. Carefully, she split it in half with her knife. Holding the freshly cut half, she searched for something to put it on before opening the cupboard above her head to grab a salad plate. "Okay… note to self. Grab everything needed _before_ beginning to cook."

When half of the first onion was finely chopped, Calliope pumped them into the saucepan and started pouring olive oil over the onions. Making a worried face, Calliope turned off the gas and snapped a picture, sending it to Jill and asking if it was too much oil. About a minute later her phone buzzed with a text saying it was fine and Calliope turned the gas on again and started chopping the second half.

"Maman!" Emeline came running up with Jack on her heel. "Jack won't let me play with Woody!"

"Woody does go with Rapunzel!" Jack said definitely.

"Woody does too!" Emeline help out her Rapunzel doll as close as she could to Jack's face without getting in trouble.

"Woody goes with Bo Peep!" Jack yanked Woody away protectively. "Rapunzel goes with Flynn! Everybody knows that!"

Calliope added more onion to the pan and stirred so the new onion was coated as well before turning to the two children. She squatted down so she was between Jack's height and Emeline's. "Woody and Rapunzel can be friends, can't they? They both like having adventures. Seems like they'd be great friends. Where's Buzz and Jessie? Why don't they all go on an adventure together? I bet together they could help Marlin and Dory find Nemo."

Emeline ran off excitedly and Jack ran after her, more to protect his toys than anything else. Hopefully, they wouldn't get into too much trouble searching for the stuffed clownfish, which – irony of all ironies – was actually lost. There was a crash as Calliope straightened, but no one sounded hurt, so Calliope turned back to the onions.

"Where'd the other onion quarter… I had on right here! I swear, I know I had just put the fourth quarter on the–"

Perses gave a loud yelp and Calliope jumped, bashing the top of her head into the corner of the cupboard she hadn't closed. Clutching her hand to her head, she muttered curses she hoped Jack and Emeline couldn't hear and slammed the cupboard shut. "Since when was I tall enough to hit the cupboard? Emeline! What'd you do to Perses?"

"Nothing!" Emeline shouted back. "We didn't do nothing!"

"Perses, come here." All Calliope could hear over the pounding in her head was Perses drinking water from his bowl so frantically he might never have had a drink in his life. Perses didn't even look up when Calliope touched his back. "Baby, what's wrong? Did you bash your head too? Oh my god, what's on your breath? Onion! Perses Reid, you stole my onion! No wonder you're drinking like a fish. Dumb dog. C'mon, we'll get you some bread. That'll cut the sting. It does when I eat those spicy crawfish. You're not going to want to eat anything. You just want to drink. Milk. Milk works. We'll get you milk. And an ice pack for my head. Mary, Joseph and the Camel, that hurts."

Calliope pulled out a serving bowl, making sure to close the cupboard this time, and filled it with whole milk. Perses growled at her when she took away his water, but was immediately distracted by the milk. "That's why you don't just take anything off the counter. It might not be good for pup – what's that smell? Oh, no, no, no!"

The smoke coming off the onions singed her nose and the air was hazy around the stove. The smoke detector started going off Calliope pushed the saucepan onto the back burner and turned off the gas. She threw open the French doors by the kitchen table and grabbed a chair, dragging it back to beneath the smoke detector. Climbing up, she found she was still a foot too short to reach the button that would turn off the shrieking alarm just as Emeline and Jack barreled into the kitchen to see exactly what was wrong.

"Aunt Callie, what are you doing?"

"Calling Santa Claus," Calliope grumbled as she hoped off the chair. "Go back and play in your room, okay?"

The excitement was too much for either child to resist, so neither left as Calliope dug an unopened box of trash bags from the under the sink. She put the box on chair as the garage door started opening. Emeline shouted "Poppy!" and ran for the garage and Calliope climbed up, reaching for the alarm again. An inch short. She stretched onto her toes, but still couldn't quite get there.

"Jack. Hand me that fork, will ya?"

Obediently, Jack picked up the fork and held it out for her. The fork speared the button and Calliope held it there until the beeping stopped.

"Calliope, what are you doing?"

Calliope jerked spastically at Spencer's voice and lost her balance. She knocked the box of trash bags out from under her and fell, whacking her arm on the counter and landing on top of the dog. Perses yelped, Spencer shouted, Jack jumped back into the island, Emeline started crying and Calliope rolled off the dog, onto her back and stared up at the fork still hanging from the smoke detector.

"I was in the garage! Two seconds! You couldn't wait two seconds for me to come in and turn it off? Are you okay? What were you thinking? Do we need to go to the emergency room? You're out of your mind! By no means was that stable enough to climb on! You could have cracked your head open! Emeline, don't you ever do that. Calliope, are you okay?"

"Baby, call Buddy and Sally," Calliope winced as Spencer helped her stand. "This would make a fantastic sketch for The Alan Brady Show."

"Are you okay?"

"I bruised my butt, my pride, and I think I killed the saucepan," Calliope wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest.

"Better the saucepan than you. What were you thinking?"

"That the alarm was really loud."

Spencer shook his head and kissed her hair. "Don't ever do that again. Get the ladder out of the garage or something."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Calliope rubbed her head. "Everybody's gonna be here soon and I have to start all over."

"Who's going to be here?"

"J.J. and Will and Emily and Derek and Aaron and Pen and Kevin. I sent you a text. I invited them all over for dinner. Dave isn't coming, he already had plans. You didn't get my text?"

"No, I didn't. Uh, well, let me go get some aspirin and I'll come help somehow."

"Another headache? That's the third one this week, String Bean. You need to go to the doctor."

"I'll go to the doctor if it gets worse."

"Spencer–"

"Calliope, I'll go if it gets worse. Just let me go get some aspirin."

"Okay, I'm sorry."

"Poppy, can I have an aspirin?" Emeline tugged on Spencer's pants and Spencer bent down to pick her up.

"No, but you and Jack can both have a Tootsie Roll."

"No, they can't," Calliope interjected quietly. "There aren't any."

"We don't have any Tootsie Rolls?" Spencer glanced at her as Emeline wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Well, there aren't any in the drawer. Unless you have some somewhere else. They keep disappearing," she shrugged.

"I don't have any. Do we have anything else?"

"Cherry lozenges. And I think we have a few Werther's hard candies from when I had that sore throat."

Emeline was pacified with a Werther's candy, Jack took one happily and Calliope wiped out the saucepan as Spencer went to change and get some aspirin. Spencer was still in the bedroom when the front door opened and Derek called out a greeting. Calliope hollered back, dicing a brand new onion. Emeline and Jack both ran gleefully to see Derek and when he got to the kitchen he had a kid shrieking in each arm.

"Okay, you monsters," Derek's smile was wide as he tried to put the two down, but they latched onto him. With Jack and Emeline hanging on like it was a game, Derek waded over to Calliope and kissed her on the cheek. "Hey Toothpick…" Derek trailed off as he looked around the kitchen. "What did you do? What did this poor kitchen ever do to you? And why is there a fork stuck in the fire alarm button?"

"It's a really long story."

"Off, monsters. I have to pull the fork out." When the fork was in the sink, the trash bags back beneath the sink and the chair by the table, Derek grabbed Calliope by the shoulders and gently moved her away from the onion. "Alright, Cal. You up there with a glass of wine and _I_ will finish whatever this is supposed to be. What exactly is this supposed to be?"

"Clams and linguini."

"Where's the white wine?" Derek asked, rolling up his sleeves and taking stock of the ingredients on the counter.

"There's supposed to be white wine?"

"Most of the time, yes. Who gave you the recipe?"

"Jill."

"I wouldn't trust you to cook with alcohol either, Toothpick," Derek winked at her and began chopping the onions far more quickly and neatly then she had been. By the time Spencer came out of the bedroom, everyone was present and laughing and Aaron was just walking in the front door, locking it behind him.

"Hey Spence!" J.J. smiled at him and Henry waved energetically at his godfather from Penelope's arms.

"Hey, J.J. Hi, everyone." Spencer waved, trying not to wince from his family's enthusiastic and loud greeting. "Okay, Princess, come here. You're getting heavy."

"Psht, my niece is perfect," Derek joked, pouring wine liberally into the saucepan full of sautéed onions and clam juice, then covering the liquid with oregano and putting the glass lid over the entire thing.

"Don't the clams need to go in?" Calliope asked.

"Last. After this has simmered. Now the water's boiling, we put the pasta in and cook that while the sauce is simmering. You are way too impatient to cook, little lady."

"Der, how do you know how to cook like this?" Emily took a sip of wine.

"Uh, a woman named Samantha Campaniello." Derek didn't look away from the dry pasta he was pouring into the boiling pot of water.

"'Campaniello' is about as Italian as you can get," Emily grinned.

"Italian ex-girlfriend?" J.J. laughed.

"Something like that."

"Will, how many teeth does this guy have now?" Penelope asked loudly, drawing the attention of everyone but Aaron, who watched Derek's back.

"He's cutting his first molar now," Will's southern drawl was full of pride.

The night half over by the time Spencer, Calliope and Emeline were alone in their house. Calliope tucked the sound asleep little girl into her bed while Spencer retreated into their bedroom. His headache had never gone away and he had been the most subdued in their party, almost to the point of being an absolute killjoy.

"Hey, Handsome," Calliope whispered and climbed into the bed next to when he lay in the dark. She held out two Advil, which he sat up and took from her. Calliope popped the cap on the Coke and waited until he put the pills into his mouth before handing him the soda can. "How are you feeling?"

"Hurts," Spencer winced and tried to hand back the Coke.

"Drink some more," she insisted, not taking the soda. "Caffeine helps the medicine work faster. Please, Spencer."

Spencer closed his eyes tiredly, but took another sip of the soda. Calliope smiled and picked up the towel-wrapped bag of frozen peas, holding it up to his head. Spencer winced at the cold and Calliope jerked the peas back. "I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," Spencer assured her, bringing her hand and the peas back to where she had put them. "I just wasn't expecting it."

"I'll leave you alone," Calliope withdrew her hand when he had a grip on the frozen peas.

"Stay," Spencer grabbed her arm as she tried to slip off the bed. "Please, Sweetheart. Stay."

"Are you sure?" Calliope looked hopeful that he'd say 'yes' and Spencer felt terrible. He nodded and Calliope settled next to him. Spencer threaded his fingers through hers, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the pillow. How could he have even entertained the thought that another woman would come anywhere close to his Calliope, much less seriously considered it however briefly?

"I love you," Spencer whispered, squeezing her hand. "So much, Sweetheart."

"I love you too, String Bean," Calliope kissed his shoulder and covered their joined hands. Spencer cracked his eyes open to see Calliope wipe away tears and his heart broke. He pulled his hand from hers, the other still holding the makeshift ice pack to his head, and tugged her over until she was pressed tightly against his side and he could wrap his arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry I've been distant," Spencer apologized, pressing a kiss to her temple and holding her. Calliope cuddled close and tucked her face into his sweater, but didn't respond. "I'm so sorry."

"Are we alright?"

"Yes, we are. I'm sorry. I've had a lot on my mind and I haven't been handling it properly. These headaches are helping. I'm sorry, Calliope."

"I can help," she slipped her arm around his middle. "I'm your girlfriend, Spencer. I love you. I want to help, I want to be the one you know you can come to when you need someone."

"I know," Spencer tried to ignore the dull pounding in his head as he leaned his head down to kiss her. "I'm sorry and you're right. You and Eme deserve better than what I've been the past few weeks. I'll be better Calliope. I promise you, I'll be better. I love you so much, Sweetheart."

"I love you too, Spencer."

ooo ooo ooo ooo

24 December, 2010

True to his word, Spencer was better. The next seven days he was as attentive and loving as he'd ever been, if not even more. There'd only been one unaccounted for absence, which he'd brushed off as a bank run. Calliope suspected it was a last minute Christmas emergency.

Spencer hadn't given Ashley a second thought and, though he knew a part of him was still physically attracted to her, the more time he spent with her on the team the more he realized she wasn't what he wanted. He spent the workday being reminded of the moment he'd let his physical instincts override his intellect and what it might have cost him. Then he came home even more determined to show Calliope and Emeline how much they meant to him.

"You getting the Scrabble board ready, Magic Man?" Calliope asked after Emeline had been put to bed on Christmas Eve. Calliope fixed the coffee in the kitchen with Perses following her every subtle move faithfully, his tail wagging from side to side, hitting the cupboard doors with a resounding thud each swing. She reached down and scratched behind his ear with one hand as she poured a liberal amount of sugar in Spencer's mug.

"Of course," Spencer said, watching her back cautiously as he set everything in place and shook up the bag of wooden letter squares. Just as she was turning around, he slipped what he held hidden in his palm into the velvet bag and looked up to smile at her. "It's all ready. But are you? I've been practicing. I'm going to demolish you."

"Oh yeah? I doubt it. You're so going down, String Bean," she laughed as she sat down next to him, placing a lingering kiss on his lips as Perses jumped up on the couch next to her and turned twice before he settled into the corner, readying himself to chew on one of Spencer's old shirts.

"Mmm," she hummed happily as she pulled away, putting the mugs on the coffee table, "just because I love you doesn't mean I'll go easy on you."

"I wouldn't dream of expecting you too. Here, get your tiles…" Spencer offered her the bag.

"Ok, here I go. Show me some good letters. Mama needs to show him who's… Spencer, there's something metal in here. Didn't you check the bag before…" She pulled out the offending object as Spencer slid off the couch onto his knee. "Oh… Oh, my."

She looked up from the ring, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Calliope, I love you more than I ever thought I was capable of loving someone. The two years, three months, twenty-six days and approximately two and a half hours I've been with you have been the absolute best of my life. When I'm with you, everything seems brighter. Everything is better and more wonderful. With you, everything's utopian, even when we're fighting. As long as you're there. No matter what is going on around us, you always make me smile, you always remind me of how good the world is.

"Two years ago to the hour, we had a fire going in the fireplace, were drinking coffee, listening to Ella Fitzgerald and playing Scrabble." He gently teased the ring from her fingers and took her left hand in his. "I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing for the rest of my life then playing Scrabble with you at night and waking up in the morning to you pulling my hair and Perses gnawing on my socks.

"You and Emeline are my entire world. Nothing, absolutely nothing is right without you two with me. Calliope Kirsten Sellers, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?"

Crying openly now, she nodded enthusiastically, saying, "Yes" over and over again. Spencer slipped the ring of her finger, smiling widely and, as soon as he got back up on the couch next to her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Perses jumped up, shirt forgotten, and started barking at them as Calliope knocked Spencer onto his back and continued kissing him from where she lay on his chest. Calliope tangled her fingers in his short curly hair and moaned as he wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her tightly against him.

"You know, if I remember correctly," he laugh in between kisses, "and I usually do, this happened that Christmas too."

"Shut up and kiss me, you goof."

Whining, Perses sat down next to the couch, nudging Spencers' arm with his cold nose. Spencer pushed him away without breaking the passionate kiss. Minutes later, Calliope pulled back a few inches to catch her breath and Spencer couldn't help but greedily enjoy the view of her kiss-swollen lips, flushed cheeks, and the rapid way her chest moved against his as she breathed heavily. Perses barked again.

Smiling, she rolled off, catching herself in the small space between Spencer and the back of the couch as they both heard Emeline's door burst open. Calliope rested her head on his collarbone and snuggled in the crook of his arm, bringing up her left hand to gaze happily at the ring.

"Maman! Poppy!"

"We're over here, Princess," Spencer called, giving Calliope a last kiss before Emeline ran into the living room.

"Perses woked me up," Emeline climbed onto the couch, gouging her knee into Spencer's stomach while climbing over him to squish herself between the two, nearly shoving Spencer off the couch.

"Princess, Maman and I have something to tell you," Spencer looked over Emeline's head to Calliope. "Maman and I are getting married."

"Married?" Emeline looked up at him with her thumb stuck in her mouth.

"Married is when a maman and a poppy decide they want to be together forever and ever. They promise each other that, no matter what, nothing's going to come between them. Married is when a maman and a poppy promise to spend the rest of their lives together."

"But you're already married," Emeline said like it was obvious and Calliope started laughing.

"Yes, but now Poppy gave Maman a ring, and he'll get one too. The rings show everyone else that they belong to someone," Spencer explained with a smile.

"But e'ryone knows Poppy belongs to Maman," she said stubbornly and it was plain that she thought the entire thing was silly. Poppy belonged to Maman and Maman belonged to Poppy and that was that.

"I know, Eme," Calliope kissed her nose. "See the pretty ring Poppy gave Maman?"

"Wow…" Emeline reached both hands for Calliope's fingers, the drool from her thumb wetting Calliope's ring finger. "Pretty. Sparkly."

They spent the next thirty minutes trying to explain to Emeline why they were getting married and how they weren't technically married now. The only part she was excited about was the sparkly ring and the prospect of a big party. When she fell asleep, Spencer carried her back to her bedroom. Calliope was lying in the same position, staring at the ring on her finger when he returned.

"I figured I'd better ask you soon before Brenda decides she hates me again," Spencer lay down next to her again, kissing her when she snuggled close against him.

"Spencer, you brought her baby home safe and sound. You're safe for life. You are in the good book with a permanent marker."

"Thankfully," Spencer smiled, "I don't know if I could take fighting with her for the rest of my life. Because, with or without her permission, I want to spend the rest of my life married to you."

"You'd want to marry me even if Mammy attacked your honour and your life every time she got within three miles of you? That's love right there." She giggled and kissed his chin.

"Love… or craziness. One of the two. You're insanity is contagious."

"This isn't the family ring," She said, marveling at it.

"No, it's not," Spencer said, second guessing his choice for the first time since he had found the ring.

"You didn't ask Grandpa?" She questioned, turning her head to look up at him.

"I've, uh, actually I've had his permission to ask you to marry me for about a year," he admitted, kissing her. "He gave me your family ring and I had it for a while, but it didn't seem right."

"It's going to be a scandal when everyone finds out I'm not wearing that ring," she smiled, kissing him again. "You know how I like causing a good scandal."

"I'm a bit familiar," he deadpanned and curled his arm around her more securely.

"When did you ask Grampa?"

"In February. I found this ring in April, when I was in Silverton, Colorado. In a jewelry shop Gideon went to to get a new watch battery. Do you like the ring?"

"Like it? Spencer, I love it. It's perfect, absolutely perfect, Mr. Magic. I love it. I love you. You made me wait ten months?" Calliope gaped at him. "You jerk. You awful jerk. I've been waiting for ages. I asked you and you didn't even say anything!"

"I had a plan!" Spencer defended himself quietly. "I was trying to ask you at the zoo on our anniversary, but García called just as I was pulling the ring out of my pocket!"

"I knew it! I knew you were going to ask then! And then I got all conflicted when you didn't. I spent the night at Ethel's I was so sad. And she didn't even say anything! That rat. This is all her fault."

"As long as it's not my fault."

Calliope laughed. She kissed his jaw and jerked when Perses prodded her bare foot with his wet nose, smashing her head into Spencers' jaw. Spencer laughed happily while he rubbed his jaw and praised Perses, who consequently started barking excitedly at the attention, jumping back off the couch and wagging his tail. As if suddenly snapping back from a dream, Calliope shot up and climbed over the back of the couch, running into the kitchen while Spencer quieted Perses before he could wake Emeline again.

"Where are you going?" Spencer asked, standing up and watching her, perplexed.

"I have to call everybody. I should call Grandpa first… no, he might be asleep. Oh well, this is better then sleep. Oh! I have to call Ethel! She'd freak if I didn't call her. Hey!" Calliope protested as Spencer easily reached over her shoulder, took the phone from her and put it back on its charger.

"It's ten at night. Tell them tomorrow at the Christmas party," He whispered in her ear as he bent a bit to kiss her temple, playfully nipping the tip of her ear with his teeth. "What better place to announce an engagement than at the Seller's Family Christmas party?"

"What? No – I want to call them now and –" Spencer cut her off with a kiss and swung her up in his arms.

"Tell them tomorrow," he repeated, a devilish look in his eyes as he kissed her again and carried her towards their bedroom.

"So… in you're professional opinion, what do you recommend we do till then, Dr. Reid?" she smiled slyly, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt and tracing her finger over his chest. He grinned widely and leaned his head down, murmuring in her ear as he pushed open the bedroom door.

"Dr. Reid!" Calliope gasped, giggling as he closed the door behind them, leaving Perses in the living room, happily chewing on the doctors' favorite sweater.

**- The End -**

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**A/N:**

**There are no words for what I'm feeling right now.**

**This story has been with me since 13 December, 2009. For 665 days. It's spawned 54 chapters, 25 one-shots (a few more in progress), a parallel story for Derek with a one-shot of it's own. 295,788 words in _Mystery Muse_ alone.**

**This story, this universe really because it's grown to be so much more than just a story, at least for me. This universe has helped me grieve through the deaths of my father and grandfather, it's helped me find myself again when I thought she was gone. This universe has helped me become the woman I want to be, someone I'm proud of when I look into the mirror, because I wasn't this person when I started it. This universe has introduced me to some of the people I'm proud to call my absolute best friends, friends I don't know what I'd do without and I'll forever be grateful for it.**

**I love this universe I've sewn together. These characters are my friends and my family. This arc of the story is over, but the story itself is not. _Mystery Muse_ was always intended to end with a proposal on Christmas Eve 2010. I wrote the 90% of the last scene, the proposal scene, on 25 December, 2009. The last line in the story, which is unchanged from the moment I wrote it, was written 12 days after the story began. I just had to change it a little to reflect the unexpected addition of Emeline. I also added a little more flesh to the scene than it had when I first wrote it. _Mystery Muse_ is over and I'm mourning it myself. It's been a part of me for so long and helped me through so much that I can't help but to mourn it's end. And while _Mystery Muse_ is over, Calliope and Spencer are far from finished. And I'm going to enjoy every moment I have with them.**

**You have made this journey so amazing. I couldn't ask for more amazing "frands," to steal the word I vaguely remember MGG using. I love yall so much. Thank you. _I'll see you soon~_**

**Love, Thalia**


	56. Sequel Preview

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds.**

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**NEXT IN THE MYSTERY MUSE SAGA~~**

**Saga... is it a saga? I have no idea.**

**ANYWAYS. NEXT IN WHAT MIGHT BE CONSIDERED THE MYSTERY MUSE SAGA~~ _"WELCOME TO THE WHIRLWIND!"_**

**Here's a sneak peak at the first chapter!**

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"_According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves." – Plato_

o o o o

25 December, 2010

How the nerdy, socially inept Dr. Spencer Reid found himself engaged to the biggest social butterfly to ever live, he had no idea, but that's the way he woke up on Christmas morning – engaged to the love he'd never expected, Calliope Sellers. If someone had asked him three years ago, Spencer would have said he expected to be a perpetual bachelor, destined to live his life with books and education and serial killers. Now that life was so far in the past he wouldn't have been able to see it with a telescope.

"Spencer! Where's Perses' Christmas collar!" Calliope poked her head into the bedroom. Her curly hair spilled over her shoulder, obscuring the neon green and pink stripped sweatshirt she wore over her grey yoga pants.

"Still at the store," Spencer smiled as she walked towards him, the Goofy slippers she wore scuffing against the hardwood floor. "You never bought it."

"I didn't?" Her brow furrowed together as she tried to remember. Spencer wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gave her a quick kiss.

"No. You spoke about buying it nine times, but, as far as I know, you never actually bought it."

"I could have sworn I bought it," Calliope sighed and Perses, their one-year-old Bernese Mountain Dog, trotted into the room carrying what had just last night been Spencer's favourite sweater. The frayed remains demonstrated exactly how appropriate it was to have named him after the Titan of Destruction. Perses jumped up on the bed and dropped the sweater. He thumped his tail happily as Spencer winced at the soggy wool. Calliope scratched his head with a fond smile, "No festive Christmas wear for you, Pers."

"Because purple and yellow screams Christmas," Spencer gestured at the bright purple and yellow sweater and yellow slacks hanging in a plastic drycleaners sleeve over the back of the chair.

"Hush you, my fashion choices are fabulous. Besides, red clashes with my hair," Calliope pushed up on her toes and kissed him.

"Everything potentially clashes with your hair. That's the risk you take when you dye blue, purple and green streaks into already red hair."

"Party pooper. You're ruining my fun. Maybe I'll put a scarf around his neck."

"He might destroy it."

"Naw, he only destroys your clothes," Calliope laughed. "You nearly ready to go? We need to leave for Dahlia in thirty minutes."

"I'm ready. You ready?" Spencer ran his thumb over the engagement ring on her finger and Calliope made a face.

"Better sooner than later."

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**FOR MORE Go read "_Welcome to the Whirlwind_," which is already up on my page!**

**Love you! Thalia**

**P.S. OH WAIT. JUST A SECOND.**

**Guess what, guess what! _Mystery Muse_ was nominated for THREE awards over at the ****Profiler's Choice Criminal Minds 2011 Fanfic Awards! It was nominated for the Best Characterization of Spencer Reid, Best Heterosexual Romance and Best OC Driven! **

**Thank you so much to whatever crazy people voted for this story! (And for Cracked Concrete, because it was nominated for Best Characterization of Derek Morgan again this year!) THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! I'm seriously thrilled. **

**If you want to to vote, the link to the rules and nomination ballot is on my profile.**

**The Reader's Digest version is you:**

**1) have to have a valid fanfiction[dot]net account,**

**2) vote through private messages to "Profiler's Choice CM Awards",**

**3) ****copy the ballot and include ONLY your vote after each category,**

**4) final votes must be received by November 30, 2011 at 11:59 PM EST and**

**5) you may only vote once (1x) but you don't have to vote for every category.**

**Okay. Now I'm off. LOVE YOU ALL!**

**Love, Thalia**


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